#🕊️| SC Writing

[sundaysconsort]

I would like to request some fluffy established relationship headcanons for Aven, Phainon and Stella (my queen 🤲🐥💛🥹) hehe, take your time with this req! 🤭🫶💖

Entry : " Just You And I Until Forever "

Pairings : HSR! Aventurine | HSR! Phainon | OC! Strelitzia

Information : My "fluffy" Established Relationship headcanons! It's been several years since I've written a request, I hope this is to your satisfaction, my Beloved. I’m sure it’s somewhat ooc, and I apologize if it’s chaotic or repetitive! 🥲💙🫶

Tags : Fluff, Emotional vulnerability, Doubt, Comfort, Established Relationship, Intimacy, mutual respect, supportive relationships, gentle affection, etc. I'm terrible at tags.

Subject: Aventurine | Love Language: Gift giving

Aventurine’s love language is unmistakably rooted in "gift-giving." He is a man who equates his self-worth with his financial success, and there’s a certain joy that radiates from him when he showers you with lavish presents. Each carefully chosen gift is not just an object; it symbolizes his affection and desire to indulge you, reinforcing his sense of pride and fulfillment in the relationship.

He is a man who possesses an uncanny ability to read your gaze, effortlessly guiding you through the vibrant store aisles filled with colorful fabrics and stylish garments. As he strolls alongside you, his keen eye catches sight of various pieces of clothing, and he eagerly presents them to you, his enthusiasm infectious. If you express even the slightest interest in a particular item, he insists on purchasing it for you, his generosity unwavering, no matter the cost. Should you politely decline his offer, he remains undeterred. With a patient smile, he waits for a moment when your attention is elsewhere, and by the morning light, you might discover the very piece of clothing you hesitated over, neatly folded on your bed as if waiting for you. Alternatively, you may receive a discreet text message, a playful hint teasing you about a delightful surprise eagerly awaiting you once you complete your work or studies.

He is a man who takes pride in flaunting you as his own, to the point where it sometimes borders on possessiveness. With a broad grin, he delights in the attention you attract, wrapping his arm around your waist in public and speaking with intention—louder so that those around you can hear. He clings desperately to his last chip, fully aware that without his luck, he feels lost. Without you, what does he have left? You belong to him, just as he belongs to you. It will take time for him to embrace himself, as he is already capable of doing for you.

He is a man whose every intention is to make you feel beautiful, help you stand out, and remind himself that you belong to him. He struggles to understand the concept of love and the idea of someone truly cherishing him. To him, you are a gamble, a thrill he cannot resist, no matter how hard he once tried. He is completely wrapped around your finger.

He is a man who once believed that he could rely solely on his good fortune, as he felt he had nothing else to offer. Or rather, he once had nothing. Now, however, he has more to lose than ever before: you. You have become his top priority for as long as your relationship continues.

He is a man who misses his partner dearly, finding that every little detail in his life somehow reminds him of you. Little by little, he begins to enjoy his life again; every gamble he wins becomes money to be spent on you. You have become his reason for living. Each time he is able to care for his own needs, he feels secure, knowing that you are happiest when he is healthy. You make him whole, serving as a beacon of light in his once-darkened world of solitude. In your presence, he often drops his usual confident facade and smooth talk; whether through his words or actions, he becomes more genuine. He may speak less, carefully choosing his words to ensure they are sincere rather than deceptive.

He is a man who endlessly praises your body and your character. He possesses a genuine love that is free from fabrication or deceit; he truly treasures it. Surprisingly, he is more hesitant when it comes to receiving physical touch than one might expect. In a committed relationship, every move he makes is carefully calculated to elicit a reaction from you. He kisses your fingers delicately, appreciates your every imperfection, and gently trails his kisses toward your knuckles before resting his forehead against the back of your hand.

He is a man who melts into your embrace over time. At first, his body may feel stiff when you take him into your arms, but soon a wave of ease washes over him, and he returns the embrace with an amused comment laced with desire. He craves your arms wrapped around him. His eyes may close as he sinks deeper into your frame, feeling safe. Whether he is the one protecting you or the other way around, he is content to relish this moment. He allows himself to feel the warmth, care, and love that come from a true partner—someone who has seen him at his worst and loves him all the same.

He is a man who takes every chance to whisk you away on a luxurious adventure. While he enjoys shopping during your dates, he gradually introduces you to exquisite meals at sought-after restaurants, all while remembering your favorite dishes for next time. When the moment is right, he confidently orders for you, always with a warm grin. You | "What if I wanted to try something new today?" Aventurine | "Then I'd buy you that as well. Who do you take me for?"

Bonus section for @aventurineswife, I'll feel guilty if it's not fluffy enough for you. He is a man who delights in the sound of your laughter, cherishing it more than anything else in the world. When he breathes softly against your neck, it sends a thrill down your spine, and then he turns away with a casual, playful air, as if to draw you deeper into his charm. At the sight of you, he can’t help but whistle, a melody that reflects the joy you bring to his life. He has a knack for moments of whimsy, like when he playfully sets his hat atop your head, playfully shielding your eyes from the sun, while also drawing you into a world of shared laughter. In conversations, he removes his sunglasses, allowing his eyes to convey the sincerity of his attentiveness. He leans in closer, captivated by your words and eager to connect on a deeper level, showing that your thoughts and opinions matter to him immensely. He is the kind of man who would go any distance for your attention, whether it’s a small gesture or a grand romantic act. Although he presents an air of confidence, he can be brought to his knees when you challenge him, and only by you, revealing an endearing vulnerability. He thrives on the banter, enjoying how you keep him on his toes, igniting playful debates that spark chemistry between you. He loves to tease you endlessly, his gentle jabs filled with affection, always knowing exactly how to make you smile. There’s something intoxicating about the way he inhales your scent as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, savoring the moment as if it’s a precious secret. His commitment shines through in the way he makes you wear matching rings, a playful promise that symbolizes a bond evolving toward something even deeper—a future engagement that he envisions with you. He genuinely values your opinions, listening attentively and encouraging you to express yourself freely. When it comes to your body, he sees beauty in every imperfection. He adores your "imperfections" whether they're love handles, moles, stretch marks, birthmarks, or scars, he'll end up interpreting each one as a testament to your beauty, strength and unique story. He is unapologetically a man in love, celebrating every facet of who you are and embracing the unique qualities that make you, you.

Subject: Phainon | Love Language: Physical touch

Phainon is a man who places a high value on "physical touch;" it is his primary love language. He feels most connected to others through the warmth of hugs, the brush of a hand, and the intimacy of close proximity. For him, these simple gestures convey deep affection and strengthen his emotional bonds with those he cares about.

He is a man who wraps his arms around you gently as you drift off to sleep, providing a warm and comforting presence. With each soothing embrace, he creates a safe haven, making sure you feel protected and cherished throughout the night. His steady breathing and quiet whispers reassure you, helping to quiet any worries that might linger in your mind. In those moments, you can surrender to rest, knowing he will safeguard your dreams with love and care.

He is a man who envelops you in a flurry of affectionate kisses, his lips brushing against your skin with a gentle urgency. Each kiss feels like a promise, as he methodically covers every inch of your body, lingering on your cheeks, forehead, and the curve of your neck, pouring his heart into each moment. As he prepares for a long mission that will take him away from you, he seems to want to memorize the warmth of your skin and the rhythm of your breath, as if these tender moments might sustain you both in the days to come. His kisses are not just physical gestures; they carry a depth of emotion, reminding you that every second spent together is a cherished memory to hold onto during his absence.

He is a man who is thoughtful and devoted. He who willingly adjusts his meticulously planned schedule to accommodate your needs. Despite the demanding responsibilities that come with being the Chrysos heir, a position that often pulls him in numerous directions, he prioritizes your time together. His commitment reflects not only his affection for you but also his determination to make every moment count, regardless of the pressures he faces from his title and the expectations that come with it.

He is a man who clings to the tiniest fragments of your conversations, recalling with fondness the playful exchanges and silly remarks that once made you both laugh. Each lighthearted memory—like your infectious giggle or a shared inside joke—becomes a precious lifeline amid the harsh realities of the battlefield. As he navigates the chaos and uncertainty of combat, he often finds himself lost in daydreams of home, where your smile awaits him. The very thought of not returning to you weighs heavily on his heart, filling him with a determination to survive, so he can once again embrace the safe haven of your presence and relive those cherished moments.

He is a man who takes his role as your partner seriously. As the respected heir of Chrysos, he stands guard over you, ensuring that no one suspicious can approach without his explicit permission. Anyone who seeks to reach you must first navigate through his watchful presence, as he meticulously assesses their intentions, weighing each potential visitor with careful scrutiny before deciding whether to grant them access. His formidable demeanor can be intimidating, but beneath it lies a willingness to respect your wishes. If you desire space or want him to step back, he will readily understand and allow you the freedom you seek, always prioritizing your comfort, often brushing off his protective behavior with humor and affection.

He is a man who effortlessly attuned to the subtle social cues that reveal your emotions. He seems to instinctively know what brings you joy and what makes you uncomfortable, even if you hesitate to share your feelings. His playful nature often shines through as he tells silly jokes, aiming to elicit a smile from you or lighten the mood when he senses any unease.

He is a man who, upon realizing he has upset you or made you feel uncomfortable, instantly transforms into a flurry of apologies. His demeanor shifts noticeably, and you can see the concern etched on his face as he fumbles through his words, striving to express how truly sorry he is for his actions. It’s as if he feels a deep sense of responsibility for your feelings and is eager to make amends, often over-explaining himself in a bid to ensure you understand that it was never his intention to cause you distress. His awkwardness only adds to the sincerity of his remorse, making it clear that he values your feelings profoundly.

Subject: Strelitzia "Stella" | Love Language: Quality time

Strelitzia is a woman known for her striking presence, often opting for silence instead of speech. She values "quality time" with her partner, and her moments of quietude do not stem from a lack of thoughts or feelings. Rather, they reflect a profound depth of character and a keen observant nature.

She is a woman who is devoted, willing to fight for your cause in the face of opposition, despite her own anxieties. You can see the fierce determination etched on her face as she steps forward to protect you without a word, her body tense with anticipation, in fear. When you finally call her name, the tension in her features begins to melt away, replaced by a gentle warmth and concern.

She is a woman who swivels her head at the familiar sound of your voice, her expression lighting up as she searches the crowd for you. Her feathers, a stunning array of iridescent colors, create a soft glow that sets her apart from those around her. As she spots you, her wings unfold gracefully, flapping with an animated rhythm that mirrors the excited wag of a dog’s tail, betraying her eagerness and joy.

She is a woman who tends to withdraw due to her fear of making mistakes. Despite this distance, she can't help but keep a watchful eye on you from afar, silently ensuring your safety. Her protective instincts drive her to monitor your well-being, even if she struggles to engage directly. It’s a complex balance of wanting to be close yet feeling the need to maintain space, all rooted in her desire to shield you from potential harm.

She is a woman who, without even realizing it, orchestrates romantic outings in hidden, tranquil spots away from the hustle and bustle of everyday life. Whether it's a charming little picnic by a serene lake, a leisurely stroll through a secluded forest, or an unexpected sunset watching at a quiet beach, her natural inclination seems to draw her towards intimate settings that evoke a sense of magic and connection.

She is a woman who truly engages with every word you say, giving her full attention as you share your thoughts, stories, and even your frustrations. With her warm, inviting smile, she creates a safe space where you feel comfortable venting and rambling on. It’s as if she hangs on to each word, her eyes sparkling with empathy, reflecting a genuine interest in what you’re expressing. Whether you’re sharing a small triumph or a deep concern, she listens intently, her expression soft and encouraging, making you feel heard and valued in every moment you spend together.

She is a woman who embodies the saying "actions speak louder than words." Her deeds often convey her intentions and feelings more powerfully than any spoken language could. Despite the fatigue that often accompanies lengthy conversations, she perseveres in her efforts to articulate her thoughts and ideas for you. Her determination to communicate, even when drained, highlights her commitment to connecting with you, ensuring that her message is heard and understood.

She is a woman who cherishes the beauty of subtle, gentle touches that convey warmth and affection. As her relationship deepens, she finds herself growing more impulsive and adventurous, exploring this newfound intimacy with enthusiasm. Unbeknownst to her, each shared moment and intimate gesture signifies her personal growth, allowing her to shed layers of hesitation and embrace the comfort of being herself. With each passing day, she becomes increasingly attuned to her own desires, relishing in the freedom of expressing her feelings openly and confidently.

[sundaysconsort]

Mydei fluff please! 🤭🫶 (Anything works for me!)

Entry: " Face To Face With Mortality "

Pairing: HSR! Mydei | Reader

Information: In a moment of quiet intimacy, a warm and inviting character reaches out to a guarded warrior, sharing insights about love and self-acceptance. Despite Mydei's tough exterior and defensiveness, the warmth of your connection begins to break down his walls. You express a desire to be someone who stands by him, challenging him to rethink his beliefs about partnerships and connection. | 1.8k Word Count

Tags: Slow Burn, Romantic Tension, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy(?) Ending, Forbidden Love (?), Power Struggles, Soulmates, Dark Themes, Deep Conversations, Confessions, Tender Moments, Heavy Themes of Loss & Hope, Fighting Against Fate, Fluff.

Warnings: Mentions of Death & Reincarnation, Existential Themes, Discussions of Emotional Trauma, Heavy Angst, Implied Violence, References to a Cursed Fate, Emotional Vulnerability, Brief Touch of Self-Doubt, Intense Romantic Moments, Possible Future Loss.

"I believe you'll experience it someday!" Mydei hears you beam, your voice warm and inviting—a gentle melody that seemed to cut through the stillness that often surrounded him during his brief moments of peace. A sweet smile graced your lips as you confidently reached out to take his hands in yours, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. The unexpected softness of your touch was a stark contrast to the tension that usually enveloped his life, offering a whisper of comfort that dared to breach his guarded heart. Despite his intimidating exterior—his chiseled jaw and stormy, piercing eyes that sent most people scurrying away—you approached him without a hint of hesitation.

"What do you mean?" he asked, furrowing his brow slightly as he studied you with a mixture of confusion and curiosity. His voice was gruff, deep, and resonant, like distant thunder rumbling across a darkened sky, creating an atmosphere heavy with uncertainty.

"Pfft, love, idiot-" you chimed, your infectious light radiating around him like a gentle sunbeam breaking through the clouds, illuminating the shadows that often clouded his world. You could see the flicker of intrigue in his eyes, a spark that hinted at a battle waging within. Seemingly unbothered by the use of 'idiot" as if it were a term of endearment coming from you.

"Well, what if I don't want a partner?" he countered, a hint of defensiveness creeping into his tone, as if your words threatened the carefully constructed walls he had built around himself.

"Who said anything about a partner?" you replied, momentarily caught off guard by his bluntness. The surprise quickly faded, and you regained your composure with the grace of a dancer stepping back into rhythm after a brief misstep. "Love comes in all different shapes, sizes, and forms, Mydei. It's not just about romance."

With deliberate tenderness, you leaned forward, easing your way closer to him, which he allowed. You lifted a knee to settle into his lap, a bold move that invited intimacy while cozying into the strong, protective confines of his throne-like seat. The warmth of your body against his seemed to dissolve the barriers he had erected around himself, inviting a sense of safety that he rarely experienced.

"Self-love is one of them," you added softly, your voice sincere and earnest, resonating with the depth of your understanding.

As you wrapped your arms around him, letting go of his hands, you felt him relax into your embrace. The contact melted the tension between you, creating a pocket of comfort that felt cocooned from the outside world. "It’s tough to achieve, that’s for certain," you continued, your gaze unwavering as you locked eyes with him, searching for understanding within those tempestuous depths. "But… it’s really nice to have once you do, don’t you think?" You held your breath, hoping to draw him into a moment of clarity amidst the chaos that often surrounded him.

“Hah. I can’t say I know what that’s like,” he replies, his voice tinged with a hint of longing. “I haven’t had the luxury of such a commitment. The very idea of devoting myself to someone feels like a distant dream to me, far too risky given the inherent dangers that come with my position.”

Your curiosity is piqued as you tilt your head slightly, trying to catch a glimpse of what lies beneath his guarded exterior. “So it’s something you’ve thought of before?” you ask, your voice soft yet probing. His gaze shifts momentarily, suggesting a swirl of emotions beneath the surface.

“Occasionally,” he admits, looking down as if the ground might offer him refuge from his own vulnerability. “But it’s not like I can afford to let anyone in. This destiny… it’s complicated. Anyone I care about could be in danger because of me.”

You can’t help but sense the weight of his unspoken fears. “You’re not alone in this, you know,” you say gently. “You don’t always have to carry that burden by yourself.”

He meets your eyes, and for a fleeting moment, his guard lowers. “It’s hard to let go,” he confesses, his voice barely above a whisper while maintaining it's usual gruff edge. “I want to believe that someone could stand by me, but…” He trails off, the unsaid hanging in the air between you.

Your gaze shifts, drawn to the intricate red markings that snake across his chest. They’re like a canvas of stories untold, a work of art against the backdrop of his muscular physique. You gently trace your finger along one of the markings, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your touch. “But what if I wanted to be that someone?” you suggest, your heart racing as you share your own silent desire.

He halts mid-sentence, his brow furrowing in both confusion and intrigue as a flicker of surprise illuminates his features. The unexpected weight of your words settles heavily in the air between you, creating a palpable tension that seems to slow time itself for an instant. “And if you already are that person?” he asks. Mydei's question lingers, expecting an answer yet remaining patient with you, determination etching itself into his expression as he prepares to delve deeper into the conversation.

In that moment, as your fingertips gently brush against the artful contours of his skin, a charged silence envelops you both. The air thrums with unspoken possibilities, thrilling yet laced with an undercurrent of fear, undeniably tangible. A man ensnared by the curse of eternal returns, each death a brutal reminder of the fragility of life. The thought weighs heavily on him; how could he endure the anguish of your inevitable departure?

You take a breath, gathering your thoughts before responding, “Maybe that's the question I've been avoiding, Mydei. What if I am? What if every word we share, every moment becomes a part of a cycle we can't break? It terrifies me just as much as it intrigues me.” Your voice is steady but vulnerable, and you lock eyes with him, the depth of your feelings reflecting in your gaze, expressing more than your usual positive outlook, expressing your own concerns. “But perhaps it's also a chance—to embrace the fleeting moments we have, no matter how they might end. I'd rather face the uncertainty together than live in fear of what comes next.”

His own death holds no terror for him; he has long accepted the inevitability of his fate. Yet, when it comes to your mortality, a chill runs through him. As you glance up, he meets your gaze, and the world around you seems to fade. “You know,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, voice low enoughf or only your ears to be blessed, “every moment with you feels like a precious thread woven into the fabric of my endless existence.”

"You'd make a great poet, Mydeimos," you teased, a playful smile tugging at your lips. He shot you a hardened glare at first, but as the seconds passed, the sharpness in his expression softened. A hint of a smile crept onto his face as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer and settling you comfortably in his lap. The warmth of his embrace enveloped you, making the teasing feel like a shared secret between the two of you. The moment stretched, filled with unspoken words and a sense of intimacy that deepened the playful banter.

“What happens when that delicate thread, so finely woven into the fabric of our lives, breaks?” The question lingers in the air between you, thick with tension and weighty with meaning, as if it holds the power to unravel everything you thought was secure.

With a glint in his eyes, he leans in slightly, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "I suggest we change the word 'when' to 'if,'" he proposes, his breath brushing against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. The suggestion hangs in the air, filled with unspoken possibilities, as the tension deepens, inviting you to explore the unknowns that lie ahead.

His golden, piercing eyes lock onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart race and your breath hitch. You can feel the weight of his gaze, filled with both longing, an alluring fire. “You make this life—my life—worth enduring,” he whispers, his voice low and husky, each word dripping with fierce conviction. There’s an urgency in his tone, leaving no room for argument, as if he knows the stakes of this moment.

He pauses for a heartbeat, the world around you fading into a blur as he leans closer, revealing the depth of his determination. “I’ll find a way to bring an end to the gods, to the chains that bind us,” he vows, his resolve evident in the fierce glint of his eyes. As the promise suspended between them, you took a deep breath, your heart racing. "Do you really believe you can achieve that? To become something more, for us?" Your voice trembled with a mix of hope and uncertainty.

He locked his gaze with yours, determination blazing in his eyes. "I have to believe it. For you. For our existence, and all those we hold dear. Without that promise, what kind of future would we have? I won’t settle for anything less."

The air around them crackled with tension. You could feel the heat radiating from him, pulling you in like a moth to a flame. “And if you transform into something… different? What if you lose yourself?”

Unwrapping a single arm from your waist, you feel the warmth of his hand as it gently cups your cheek. The skin is rough and calloused, a testament to the hard work he's known throughout his life. “I won’t. I’ll never lose you, not now, not ever,” he promises, his gaze steady and intense, filled with determination. Using his other arm to draw you closer, you feel the solidity of his biceps pressing against your body, a protective embrace that envelops you in his strength.

Time seemed to stand still as he leaned in closer, breaths mingling, anticipation thickening the air. “All I want is you,” he whispered just before closing the distance.

Your lips met in a restless kiss, igniting a fire deep within you both, a blaze that seemed to consume the very air around you. This was no ordinary kiss; it resonated with promises whispered in the softest of tones, dreams painted in vibrant colors, and the undeniable urgency of a love that pushed against the confines of your reality. As you melted into him, the world around you dissolved into a hazy blur, each heartbeat echoing the intensity of the moment. Time itself seemed to pause, allowing you to savor the depth of your connection, the way his hand cradled your face, and how his breath mingled with yours in a rhythm that felt both exhilarating and comforting. In that fleeting yet eternal instant, you were both willing to fight against any force that threatened your bond, believing wholeheartedly in his every word and the future that lay ahead, a future you were determined to build together, no matter the obstacles in your path.

A/N: First time writing our dear Mydeimos! I hope I did well, and though it's got my usual twist, I hope it's fluffy enough for you!

[sundaysconsort]

How would the men of HSR (your choices) act when jealous?

Entry: " It's You And Me "

Pairing: HSR! Dan Heng IL | HSR! Dan Heng | HSR! Veritas Ratio | HSR! Boothill

Information: As the night unfolds, you unexpectedly encounter an old friend whose demeanor feels oddly off-kilter. With a mischievous glint in his eye, he begins to mimic your boyfriend's mannerisms, adopting a mock persona designed to draw your attention and elicit a laugh. This attracts the attention to your partner who steps in to prevent any further bonding... he may not admit it, but, he wishes to be the one who makes you laugh and nobody else.

Tags: Dan Heng x Reader, Dan Heng IL x Reader, Ratio x Reader, Boothill x Reader, Jealousy, Established Relationship, Possessiveness, Protective Behavior, Love Triangle (Implied), Assertive Partner, Tension, Flirting, Mild Rivalry, Territorial Instincts, Emotional Intensity, Public Displays Of Affection, Power Dynamics, Unspoken Feelings, Playful Banter, Intimate Moments, Subtle Dominance, Quiet Possessiveness, Affectionate Reassurance.

Warnings: Themes Of Jealousy and Possessiveness, Mild Tension between characters, Potential Discomfort From Protective Behavior, Minor Confrontation, Implied Power Imbalance In Relationships.

Dan Heng IL, Epochal Spectrum | 1.2k word count

The training grounds buzzed with energy, the rhythmic sound of feet striking the polished wooden floor echoing off the high, vaulted walls. Laughter filled the air as you and your friend engaged in a spirited sparring session, both of you exchanging playful jabs and teasing remarks, your camaraderie palpable under the watchful gaze of fellow trainees. The atmosphere was lighthearted and charged with excitement—until your friend leaned in a little too close, a mischievous smirk dancing on their lips, their eyes sparkling with a challenge that lingered just a moment too long.

Across the room stood Dan Heng in his form as a Vidyadhara, known as Imbibitor Lunae. He was tall and slender, he expressed an otherworldly elegance. Long black and teal hair cascaded down his back, framing his complexion. While he appeared relaxed, a tension knitted his brow. He watched intently, noticing how your friend leaned closer, trying to elicit another round of laughter from you. Their tone was playful yet steeped in familiarity, and each chuckle that escaped your lips only seemed to stoke the fires of irritation within him. This training session was meant to be simple and lighthearted, but he found himself grappling with a growing sense of possessiveness, perhaps a reflex rooted in his Vidyadhara heritage. Although once banished, he now found a strange sense of belonging in Jarilo-VI, carrying the burdensome weight of his past.

As your friend reached out, brushing their fingers against your arm while delivering another jest, the atmosphere shifted dramatically. Dan Heng's expression hardened, the familiar intensity and focus returning with a vengeance, his tail swishing restlessly behind him as he struggled to maintain a façade of calm. With deliberate steps, he advanced, closing the distance between you and your friend, transforming the playful banter into something far more serious. The bright blue of his eyes captivated you, vivid against his deep red eyeliner, drawing you in with an almost hypnotic allure.

"Hey," he said, his tone a careful blend of calm and authority, laced with an unmistakable edge of warning. "That's enough."

As a Vidyadhara, his pointed ears peeked through his hair, a subtle reminder of his heritage, which caught your friend's attention, followed by the translucent green horns.

Despite his clear disadvantage, your friend shot Dan Heng a defiantly challenging look, unbothered by the shift in energy. But Dan Heng was far from interested in playing games. The air crackled with unspoken tension as you felt the unmistakable weight of his presence draw nearer.

Before the moment could escalate further, Dan Heng closed the gap entirely, positioning himself resolutely between you and your friend. His stormy gaze locked onto yours with unwavering intensity, and in a breathtakingly unexpected movement, he leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both soft yet commanding. The world around you faded into a soft blur as you closed your eyes, feeling the warmth of his lips against yours, all the while Dan Heng's fierce gaze remained fixed on your friend throughout the act.

This kiss felt heavy with meaning—a silent proclamation of possession, a declaration that you belonged to him. As he slowly pulled away, the vibrant hum of the training grounds dulled, leaving your heart racing from the unexpected intensity of the moment.

His eyes flickered between yours and your friend’s, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, but the look in his gaze was far from playful. "I’d reconsider," he said, his voice low, steady, and infused with an air of finality.

The kiss lingered in your mind as Dan Heng held your gaze, the world around you seeming almost surreal in its stillness. The laughter and playful taunts of your friends faded into the background, replaced by the steady rhythm of your heart pounding in your chest. What had just happened felt monumental, a point of no return that shifted the dynamic not only between you and Dan Heng but also amongst the entire gathering of trainees.

His grip on you remained firm but gentle, and you felt a surge of warmth at the casual confidence he exuded. The way he asserted himself so effortlessly, standing tall and unyielding between you and your friend, filled you with a mix of intrigue and admiration. Yet, as you caught a glimpse of your friend's stunned expression, a tinge of unease began to creep in. You wondered how this one moment would reshape your friendships and interactions in the days to come.

Dan Heng’s eyes, bright and deep, held a hint of a smile as he assessed the situation, ensuring you were alright before turning his attention to your friend. The playful camaraderie that once filled the room now felt fragile, like crystal ready to shatter. Dan Heng’s presence leaned into that tension, a confident reminder of the unspoken bond between you two that others could not easily penetrate.

“Didn’t you have enough fun?” he asked, his voice low but steady, carrying an air of authority. Your friend, never one to back down, squared their shoulders, still recovering from the unexpected display of affection. A smirk played on their lips, but the hardening of their demeanor signaled they recognized the weight of the moment.

“Seems like someone likes to lay claim,” your friend shot back, attempting to regain control of the playful banter. However, the edge in their tone suggested they acknowledged Dan Heng's implications. You felt an urge to diffuse the tension, but before you could speak, Dan Heng's protective posture remained firm.

“I’m not playing games,” he replied pointedly, the resolve in his voice silencing any further remarks. There was a sense of finality in his words, as if a barrier had been erected between you, your friend, and whatever innocent banter had remained.

Eventually, Dan Heng stepped back slightly, allowing the air to breathe between you and your friend, though the protective energy he emitted still lingered. “Let’s not ruin this session,” he said, softening his tone just enough to bring a semblance of normalcy back to the atmosphere. Yet, his gaze remained fixed on you, as if to remind you both that the connection you shared was something deep and profound. "Forgive me, Sweetheart."

You smiled softly, the corners of your lips lifting slightly as you waved a hand dismissively, hoping to ease any lingering tension in the air. "It's okay," you said gently, your voice warm yet firm. "I trust your judgment on this matter. It was likely a misunderstanding on my part for not being clear that I'm in a committed relationship." Dan Heng understood that it wasn't your fault; you had made it quite clear that you were in love with him. Ultimately, it was your friend who crossed the boundary. His gaze narrowing once again at the thought alone.

You turned to your friend, meeting their gaze. Uncertainty flickered behind their confident facade as their playful smirk transformed into a knowing look, one that spoke volumes about the new shift in dynamics. You could see the wheels turning in their mind, weighing your connection with Dan Heng against your longstanding friendship.

As the training session resumed, the earlier energy began to return, but it felt different now—charged with a newfound understanding. With Dan Heng by your side, you felt a sense of intimacy and protection, emboldened by the kiss and his assertiveness. The playful sparring with your friends continued, but now you noticed how Dan Heng stayed close, his presence a gentle reminder that while camaraderie and laughter could easily flow, boundaries had been established, and there was no going back.

Dan Heng | .8k word count

The Astral Express swayed gently through the vast cosmos, its rhythmic hum offering a comforting backdrop to the twinkling stars outside the panoramic windows. In one of the cozy lounge areas, you were engaged in lively conversation with an old friend who had recently boarded for a visit. His laughter danced through the air as he leaned casually against the wall, attempting to mimic Dan Heng’s serene demeanor but failing to mask the unmistakable admiration shining in his eyes. An uncomfortable realization bubbled within him; he couldn’t stand the thought of another man looking at you with such reverence, reading too much into every shared glance.

A few paces away, Dan Heng stood with his arms crossed, his sharp gaze flicking between you and your friend. He observed the interaction with a mix of curiosity and barely concealed irritation. While he was usually content to grant you the space you often needed, the way your friend emulated his calmness—accentuating each idiosyncrasy with exaggerated playfulness—sparking a rare stir of jealousy within him. The sound of your sweet laughter wafted towards him, a sound he adored, yet as it echoed in his ears, he felt a growing unease; it seemed tethered to the trivial antics of your friend, even mocking in its underlying tone.

“Come on, you remember that mission we did back on Jarilo-VI? It was legendary! You were unstoppable back then—like a whirlwind, effortlessly taking down those mara-stuck. I like to think I held my own, supporting you all the way,” your friend exclaimed, flashing a confident smirk meant to impress you. He leaned in closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, tossing his hair back as if trying to project an aura of nonchalance, desperately hoping to draw your attention.

Dan Heng’s expression tightened, a flicker of annoyance gleaming in his eyes as he narrowed them slightly. He stepped forward, an instinctual protective gesture, placing a firm hand on the small of your back—a silent reminder of his presence and his unwavering connection to you.

“Really, that’s enough,” he said, his voice steady yet laced with an underlying intensity. It wasn’t a shout, but the authority in his tone shifted the playful atmosphere. Your friend's laughter faltered, the lightheartedness draining away as he registered the brewing tension.

“Hey, I was just—” your friend began, feigning innocence, but the sharpness of Dan Heng’s gaze, unyielding and resolute, effectively silenced him. There was something almost palpable in the air; Dan Heng wasn’t angry, but the clarity in his demeanor left no room for misunderstanding—he was done playing games.

The warmth radiating from him enveloped you, a steady force that cut through the earlier jovial banter. When his gaze returned to you, it softened, worry etched into the lines of his expression as he checked to make sure you felt safe amidst the brewing drama. For a fleeting moment, the surrounding world faded, leaving only the two of you at the epicenter of a quiet storm.

“Are you okay?” he leaned in slightly, lowering his voice so that only you could hear. His concern felt genuine, as if he wanted to shield you from any chaos that could disturb your peace.

Swallowing hard, you nodded, struggling to articulate the weight of gratitude settling in your throat. His steadfast presence made you feel secure, how he stood there—an unyielding fortress against the noise and chaos of the moment. It struck you how deeply Dan Heng cared, driven perhaps by a surge of jealousy as he recognized that another man dared to bring a smile to your face. But he was the one who truly respected you, the one you felt safest with.

“Looks like I’ve overstayed my welcome,” your friend finally muttered, attempting to ease the palpable tension with a half-hearted laugh that fell flat. Shifting uncomfortably, he glanced toward the door, clearly wishing to escape the palpable discomfort. “I’ll just… go grab some drinks.”

“Good idea,” Dan Heng replied, his tone still measured but tinged with the unmistakable edge of dismissal. Your friend nodded, muttering something inaudible under his breath, before hastily retreating through the door.

As the door clicked shut, a deep silence settled over the room, a thick heaviness that loomed in the air. Turning back to Dan Heng, you saw him exhale slowly, his rigid posture relaxing ever so slightly. “I don’t want anyone making you feel uncomfortable,” he said, his voice low and sincere. “You deserve to enjoy yourself without worrying about anyone else encroaching on your space.”

In that small space between you, the air sparkled with unspoken understanding, and a gentle current of connection flowed between you, knitting your hearts closer together in the aftermath of the disruption.

Veritas Ratio, Panta Rhei | 0.7k word count

The sun dipped lower on the horizon, casting a soft golden hue over the bustling plaza while illuminating the myriad of faces animated by spirited conversation. Dr. Veritas Ratio leaned against a polished marble column, its cool surface contrasting with the warmth of the evening air. His keen, observant eyes scanned the crowd, a mixture of amusement and annoyance etched into his features. He had envisioned a peaceful evening with you, nestled in thoughtful dialogue, but there you stood—a beacon of warmth—engaged in lively conversation with another scholar who seemed far too eager to capture your attention.

Ratio’s forehead furrowed slightly as he observed the way the other scholar leaned in, their laughter flows like a playful fountain, filling the air with a false sense of camaraderie. It wasn’t the exchange itself that disturbed him; rather, it was the fluidity with which it flowed, the way you appeared genuinely captivated by their words, despite the clearer reality unfolding before him. He knew you were astute enough to see through the pretentious facade, yet his heart sank at the thought of your kindness being wasted on someone so clearly posturing in an attempt to sound intellectually profound, rather than embracing the earnestness of genuine inquiry. Underneath the calm exterior, a flicker of jealousy ignited, a mere shadow beneath his otherwise composed demeanor.

A deep breath steadied him as he rolled a dry retort around in his mind, teetering on the edge of interruption. Instead of bursting onto the scene with his usual authoritative presence, he chose to observe the dynamic unfolding before him just a moment longer. A subtle amusement played at the corners of his mouth as he watched the other scholar’s poorly strung illusion of intellect falter with every exaggerated claim. Yet within him stirred a protective urge, a desire to safeguard the truth—not just for himself, but for you, the one he cherished.

Finally, Ratio pushed himself off the column with deliberate ease, gliding closer, his presence both unyielding yet composed. As he approached, he caught the tail end of the scholar's exaggerated proclamations, punctuated with wild gestures that seemed more theatrical than academic. It was indeed time to reclaim the moment.

With a casual, almost teasing inflection, he interjected, “Fascinating. And yet, entirely incorrect.” His voice cut through the cacophony of chatter with precision, drawing both you and the bewildered scholar’s startled gazes toward him. There was no need for raised voices; his confidence enveloped the space, asserting dominance with subtle grace.

You blinked in surprise, your eyes lighting up with recognition, a radiant smile breaking across your face that chased away the lingering tension. “Oh, Veritas! I was just—”

He raised a hand, silencing your words as he locked his gaze onto the flustered scholar, the corners of his mouth curving into a slightly amused smile. “You’ve posited a theory that overlooks the foundational principles entirely,” he continued, a playful condescension dripping from his words. “Engaging in ideation is one thing; understanding the underlying mechanics is another entirely.” With a flourish of intellectual prowess, he deftly commandeered the conversation, weaving his knowledge into the narrative.

Ratio’s focus shifted back to you, his expression softening as he paid no further heed to the novice scholar, who was now visibly deflated. “Shall we continue our discussion?” he asked, his voice lowering to something intimate and inviting. “I’d much rather hear your insights,” he encouraged, drawing you back into the cocoon of connection the two of you shared.

As the other scholar retreated, the sound of their mingled laughter faded into the ambient buzz of the plaza, replaced by the sweeter cadence of your shared voices. Ratio felt a flicker of satisfaction blossom within him—not from shunning the fool, but from reclaiming the sacred space between you with such effortless ease. You leaned into him, your laughter resonating like a sweet melody that made his heart flutter once more, knowing he had drawn you back from the clutches of superficiality. In that moment of quiet understanding, he realized that you, too, saw through the charade, and that realization filled him with profound contentment. All that mattered was the truth you both cherished.

Boothill, Dusty Trail's Lone Star | .9k word count

The saloon was alive with the sounds of laughter and clinking glasses, the air thick with the aroma of whiskey mingling with the dust from the wooden floor. The atmosphere hummed with energy, illuminated by flickering lanterns that cast dancing shadows on the rough-hewn walls. Boothill leaned casually against the bar, his well-worn hat tipped low over his brow, obscuring the intensity of his keen gaze. He watched closely as his darlin', you, animatedly chatted with a tall stranger at the far end of the bar. The man had a charming smile and an inviting demeanor, leaning in just a fraction too close, sharing a drawl that was almost identical to Boothill's own. It unsettled him, how the stranger’s mannerisms mirrored his with such precision, almost as if he were a shadow trying to ensnare you in a web of false familiarity—a fraud.

Despite the upbeat atmosphere, tension simmered within Boothill. He sipped his drink, the ice clinking against the glass as his smirk faltered, replaced by a deep furrow of discontent upon seeing the friend’s hand linger too close to your waist. You instinctively shifted away, but the man failed to grasp the clear message you sent. Boothill's grip on his glass tightened involuntarily, the ice rattling ominously as he fought to rein in his irritation.

You laughed, your face radiant under the warm glow of the saloon lights, illuminating your features with a playful sun-kissed hue. But for Boothill, it was complicated; his heart raced with an almost primal urge to possess you, an urge that creeped over him like a swift shadow. He shifted his weight, straightening up, as if adjusting his stance could project his authority. Moving gradually toward you, he pretended to look at something on the bar counter, but his eyes remained locked on you, a fierce protective energy simmering within. While he genuinely wanted you to be happy, he could not allow someone masquerading as himself to so easily reach for your laughter. It was far too dangerous, and the possibility of losing you gnawed at him relentlessly. He trusted you deeply, he really did, yet that innate fear lingered like a specter from his past—the memory of having lost not just a home, but a sense of self.

As the stranger leaned in further, encroaching upon your space, Boothill’s patience thinned. With a deliberate and confident stride, he approached, an easy grin unfurling across his lips as he flashed his sharp, white teeth—which concealed an undercurrent of unspoken menace. Sidling up beside you, he placed a hand lightly on your back; the touch was both possessive and playful, imbued with an undeniable intimacy. “Hope I’m not interruptin’ anything,” he drawled, his voice smooth yet threaded with a hint of challenge, making it clear he was staking his claim.

You turned at the sound of his voice, your face lighting up at the sight of him like the dawn breaking over a shadowed landscape. “Boothill! Come join us!” you exclaimed, your excitement radiant and genuine.

Boothill tipped his hat up slightly, allowing a glimmer of mischief to spark in his eyes, masking the agitation that churned beneath the surface. With a quick, predatory glare directed at your so-called friend, his smile morphed into a knowing smirk, signaling a swift change in the dynamics. “Looks like you’re keepin’ my partner entertained. Don’t mind me,” he said, his tone woven with both invitation and warning, an unspoken clarification—he wouldn’t be sidelined.

The friend hesitated, the shift in the atmosphere palpable, as he instinctively backed off. The confidence that had fueled him moments earlier evaporated, leaving behind only a faint semblance of that facade he wielded. It was amusing, Boothill thought grimly, how easily someone could lose their bravado when faced with a clear threat. Taking full advantage of the moment, Boothill smoothly lifted his hat off his head and playfully placed it upon yours—a move laced with both intimacy and claim. “Looks better on you,” he murmured, his voice low and just for your ears.

You laughed, fully aware of the subtle power play, yet choosing to remain quiet, caught in the electric energy of the moment. Boothill maintained a posture that demanded acknowledgment; he was a man renowned for his escapades and threats, an outlaw who had evaded the IPC for far too long. Very few dared to test him, and the audacity of this stranger trying to play his hand in attempting to whisk you away was something he simply wouldn’t allow. His gaze remained fixed on the table where the man had been seated, his playful grin fading into a hard stare that conveyed the depths of his territorial instincts, a tension almost tangible in the air. His hand twitched involuntarily, itching to reach towards the holster strapped to his hip.

The air pulsed with an unspoken challenge, a silent battle of wills cascading between Boothill and the unfortunate interloper. He kept a meticulous watch as the man seized the opportunity to retreat, the spark of interest in you extinguished under the weight of Boothill’s unwavering presence. When the coward finally backed away, Boothill’s demeanor softened ever so slightly, the storm within him calming—but not entirely.

Turning to you, he allowed a genuine smile to reemerge, his jealousy artfully cloaked beneath layers of charm as he refocused all his attention solely on you. “What were you two talkin’ about that had you roarin'?” he asked, his tone playful yet protectively edged. The underlying message still resonated clearly in the space between you: you were his, and he intended to keep it that way. "C'mon, Sugar. I'm more than capable of makin' you grace this fudgin' saloon with such sweet laughter on my own."

A/N: Writing jealousy is complex, tough to make it more than just a protective instinct. I didn't wish to make the reader oblivious, nor did I wish for them to be entirely comfortable with the actions of their friend here. I got ahead of myself and may have written something a little different, hope you enjoy either way! I'll write proper jealousy hc's at some point if needed.

[sundaysconsort]

Since your reqs are open hehe 🤭

I would like to make a request for a blue birdie 💙 and domestic fluff 🤭 (i have nothing specific in mind, so I'll leave it to your beautiful creative imagination!! 💖🤭 Take your time with this req, hehe!)

Also, my first time making a req- 🧍‍♀️

Entry: " Recipe to Reminisce "

Pairing: HSR! Sunday | Reader

Information: After the incident in Penacony, it would take time for everyone to settle back into life on the Express. However, some crew members find adjusting harder than others, particularly their new addition, Sunday. Wanting to make him feel welcome, you research how to make one of his favorite dishes that you overheard him longing for. | 4.6k word count.

Tags: Domestic, Fluff, Slow Burn, Light Teasing, Tenderness, Pinning, Admiration, Hurt/Comfort, Longing, Appreciation, Subtle Flirting, Praise, Unestablished, Misuse of ingredients.

Though you had never mastered the delicate craft of baking, the absence of time spent in the pursuit had never bothered you. Life among the stars kept you perpetually on the move, grappling with the cosmic currents of your adventures on the Astral Express. After your long and exhaustive trek from Penacony, your intrepid crew found a moment's reprieve, a rare stillness in the ceaseless tide of your travels as plans for the next voyage to the enchanting land of Amphoreus began to take shape. This lull in activity stretched over the span of a week, and amidst the maps and charts spread out like a celestial tapestry, you recognized a golden opportunity. It was the perfect chance to warmly welcome the newest addition to your diverse crew, ensuring he felt at home among the swirling constellations and the unfamiliar chaos of life on the express.

You find yourself in the dimly lit confines of the Trailblazer's room, surrounded by the tantalizing scents of fresh ingredients as you prepare a heartfelt welcome gift for Sunday. A deep sense of apprehension fills the air, as you worry about the possibility of him wandering in and catching you off guard during your clandestine preparations. The thought of March discovering your secret and spreading the word sends a chill through you—this moment is meant to be a tranquil escape, a chance not only to prove your baking skills but also to convey to Sunday that he is no longer alone in this journey.

As you glance downstairs, the vibrant camaraderie of your friends echoes in the background, their laughter and chitchat filling the atmosphere with warmth. Himiko is lost in her world, savoring the rich aroma of her coffee, while March and Stelle are caught up in animated conversation over their sugary drinks. Despite their delight, you can’t shake the longing that gnaws at you—a yearning for the comfort of fresh meals, something sorely missed during your travels with the express, where dining means waiting until you reach the next destination.

Determined to turn your cravings into something special, you made the journey back to Penacony three system hours prior, gathering the necessary materials to craft the perfect sweet dessert. The excitement of creating something from scratch fills you with purpose, especially after having asked Pom-Pom to install a kitchen ahead of time. Thankfully, the kitchen arrived just in time for this culinary adventure, providing you with the perfect space to channel your creativity and affection into a dish that will surely bring joy to Sunday’s heart.

Tonight's mission was set in your mind: bake a delicious tray of Pudding Tarts to brighten up Sunday! You pictured the silky custard filling nestled in crisp, golden pastry, and the thought made you smile warmly to yourself, filled with anticipation for the delightful treat you'd create.

As the night wore on, the vibrant sounds of laughter and chatter from your comrades began to ebb away, leaving the bar enveloped in a tranquil hush. The lively atmosphere faded, replaced by the soft hum of the fridge, a soothing backdrop to the stillness that settled in. In the quiet, you found solace, relishing the companionship of Shush, who stood silently by, patiently awaiting the moment to craft a drink.

Seizing this opportunity to take the lead, you crept down the staircase with the stealth of a cat, your heart racing with excitement. Balancing a precarious stack of ingredients, you maneuvered carefully, each step a delicate challenge as you fought to keep everything in your grasp. At last, with a triumphant lift, you placed the colorful array of bottles and mixers onto the bar, a small victory that made you beam with pride.

As you scroll through the contents on your phone, a familiar recipe catches your eye—it’s the one you saved for Tarts. A sudden realization washes over you: you mistakenly prepared for Cream Tarts instead of Pudding Tarts. Surely there can't be much of a difference, right? You murmur this to yourself as you tidy your workspace, surrounded by all the ingredients you’ve assembled.

You take a moment to check your supplies: the refrigerated pie crust dough looks perfectly chilled and ready to work with, check. The instant chocolate pudding mix sits in its packaging, promising a rich indulgence, check. Milk, creamy and cold, is prepped next to the dry ingredients, check. You have the whipping cream, fresh and inviting, check. The powdered sugar, nestled snugly beside it, will add the perfect sweetness, check. Finally, you eye the grated chocolate, a decadent touch for garnish, check.

With everything in place, it's time to dive into the baking process.

You follow step one by preheating the oven to an appropriate temperature. Taking the chilled pie dough you prepared in advance, you began rolling it out on the surface you lightly floured, cutting out twelve 3-inch circles.

"Keep an eye on the dough scraps,” you remind yourself, knowing they will come in handy later for re-rolling to create the final circles. You think aloud, clapping your hands together, and watching as a delicate cloud of flour billows and settles softly over the dough. “Seems simple enough!” you muse, encouraged by the process.

Moving on to the next step, you carefully press each dough circle into a mini tart pan, ensuring they fit snugly against the sides, creating a perfect little vessel for the filling to come. The cool, smooth texture of the dough molds easily beneath your fingers. With a fork in hand, you proceed to poke small holes in the base of each tart shell, a crucial task to allow steam to escape during baking, preventing any error during bake. The rhythmic tapping of the fork against the dough fills the kitchen, a satisfying sound that echoes your anticipation for the delicious tarts to come.

Unbeknownst to you, a solitary figure had remained hidden within the confines of the room. As the soft sounds of your baking filled the air, he lifted his head, sharp golden eyes fixated on your delicate movements. He watched intently, every detail of your actions captured in his gaze, as he remained cloaked in silence to ensure he did not disrupt the rhythm of your culinary endeavor.

As moments passed, it became increasingly apparent to him that you were blissfully unaware of his presence. With each step he took, his feet barely whispered against the floor, a ghost gliding nearer to you from behind.

Suddenly, his voice broke the quiet, smooth yet edged with authority: "Hm. And what do we have over here?" The sound sent a shiver down your spine, for it belonged to none other than the last person you had hoped to encounter at this moment—drawing you from your creative sanctuary into the light of scrutiny.

His first reaction is one of surprise and curiosity, the corners of his brows lifting as he takes in the sight before him. You attempt to mask your baking efforts, going to great lengths to hide the evidence without making your fabrications too glaringly apparent. A flush of embarrassment creeps over you at the thought of being discovered by Sunday, your heart racing as you navigate the tension between your secret and the other person's inquisitive gaze.

You keenly attempt to spin a complex web of deception, artfully dodging the conversation’s focal point. Yet, your evasive tactics only serve to heighten his curiosity, drawing him deeper into a labyrinth of intrigue over your peculiar unease about the possibility of him uncovering your creation. After all, if your carefully crafted work were truly meant for the rest of the express members, he muses, there would surely be no reason for you to obscure it from him. He is not the type to divulge secrets about your playful mischief, especially if you wish to keep this particular matter under wraps.

As he begins to connect the seemingly disparate dots, a flicker of comprehension dances in his eyes; he starts to assemble the fragments of your intentions, gradually deducing the true identity of the intended recipient of your work.

“I apologize for the intrusion,” he says, his voice calm and sincere, each word carefully chosen. The seriousness of his expression reveals a deep understanding of the situation at hand, you didn't enjoy it despite his polite mannerisms. “I mean no harm. Would it be better if I step aside?” His gaze is piercing, filled with an awareness that suggests he has already unraveled your intentions, leaving you feeling exposed under the weight of his judgment, or perhaps, it's your mind raising the intensity on its own.

"I would appreciate that, though I—never mind." You shook your head, a sigh escaping your lips as your gaze fell away from his piercing eyes. Instead, you focused on the delicate pastry resting on the counter, its surface glistening under the warm kitchen lights as you awaited the oven’s familiar melody signaling that it was ready. A rush of conflicting thoughts swirled in your mind. Would it be more suspicious to ask him to leave, to disrupt the uneasy tension that thrummed between you? Or if you invited him to stay, would he see through your facade and guess that it was merely an attempt to quell his rising suspicion? It felt like a mental chess game, and with this man, there seemed to be no winning move.

Choosing to remain silent, you relinquish control and let him proceed as he wishes. As you turn your attention back to your work, an unsettling awareness creeps in, sharpening your senses to the weight of his gaze fixed intently on your creation. A flurry of questions swirls in your mind—had you inadvertently erred in some way? Does your work meet his expectations? You had felt confident in the process up until now, the steps seeming straightforward and manageable… but now, doubt tugs at you—what if you overlooked an important detail?

♫♪♪~ ♫♪♪~ ♫♪♪~

Placing the tart shells in the oven upon its chime, you'd crouch to the ground and eye your pastries closely through the tinted glass. It is recommended to bake for about five minutes or until they turn golden brown.

At last, your gaze drifts back to Sunday, where you find him deeply immersed in the well-worn pages of the book he carries everywhere. With a hint of curiosity, you step away from the warmth of the oven, your attention drawn to him. Despite the tumultuous events that unfolded in Penacony, a smile spreads across your face. Sunday appears remarkably transformed, his previous burdens all but lifted. No longer confined by the weight of his family legacy, he has shed the label of "Bronze Melodia." Instead, he stands before you as Sunday of the Astral Express, exuding a newfound sense of ease and self-assurance, while still carrying internal troubles which leech off of him. His ideology captured your interest when you first stepped foot in his dream, and you recall your initial instinct being that he couldn't possibly be a villain. Perhaps misguided, yes—most certainly—but not inherently bad.

"Sunday? I hope this doesn’t come across as insensitive, but I’ve been pondering something for quite a while now…" Your voice finally cut through the hush of the bar, like a soft breeze on a still evening, as you summoned the courage to speak.

"Hm?" he responded, the sound a gentle hum, his gaze lifting from the pages of the book he had been lost in. The warm light that filled the room caught the edges of his halo, causing it to shimmer ethereally, casting a golden glow that framed his features in an otherworldly light.

"What exactly is the burden that comes with being Bronze Melodia?" you asked, your curiosity intertwining with a hint of hesitation. It felt like a delicate subject to bring up—like disturbing the surface of a still pond, unsure if it would ripple out with unintended consequences.

"Ah, it is to bear the weight of listening to the myriad problems and vexations of the Dreamscape’s residents, offering them the guidance they seek. That was my solemn duty as Bronze Melodia," he answered, his voice steady and calm, yet a veil of unresolved emotion lingered in the air. It was challenging to decipher the depth of his feelings—he often cloaked himself in silence, guarding whatever turmoil may lie beneath that serene facade.

"What about you?" You could feel empathy radiating from you, a warm pulse of connection amidst the flickering shadows of the bar.

"Me?" Sunday questioned, his voice softening into an uncertain whisper. It was as if your inquiry had plucked at an untouched string within him, revealing a vulnerability he rarely displayed. No one had ever ventured to ask him such a straightforward thing; it was a simple question made complex by the weight of expectation. Who, after all, saves the savior? Who brings comfort to the strong? Destined to fend for themselves, he ponders your implication.

♫♪♪~ ♫♪♪~ ♫♪♪~

"You need not carry the weight of others any longer, Sunday," you urged softly, your voice a gentle reminder amidst the bustling kitchen. "Take care of yourself for the time being; you truly deserve it, no matter what doubts you harbor." As you finished speaking, you sensed his intense gaze lingering on you, a mix of contemplation and vulnerability reflected in his eyes. With a heavy heart, you turned away, the aroma of baked goods wafting from the oven guiding your steps, feeling the warmth of his gaze on your back as you walked away, leaving him to ponder your words in the stillness that followed.

As you open the oven door, a rush of warm air escapes, carrying the enticing fragrance of freshly baked pastry that dances around the kitchen. You carefully extract the delicate tart shells, their golden edges glistening under the soft light, and gently place them onto the wire rack you’ve prepared, allowing them to cool and crisp. The sweet and buttery scent envelops you, a tantalizing promise of the delicious creation that awaits.

Suddenly, Sunday’s voice cuts through your reverie, warm and inviting. You glance over at him, noticing the subtle change in his expression—now softer, almost tender. A flutter of warmth fills your heart, stirring emotions you hadn’t anticipated. Yet, despite this newfound gentleness, a hint of hesitation lingers within you. Your gaze flits between him and the bustling preparations surrounding you; uncertainty clings to your tongue.

Before you can gather your thoughts, he speaks again, his tone earnest and encouraging. “It would be an utmost pleasure to help. You’re making tarts, aren’t you? I have experience with this process if you’d allow me.” His offer hangs in the air, filled with an unexpected promise of collaboration, leaving you to ponder the implications of letting him in.

"Sunday, I genuinely appreciate your eagerness to lend a hand, but… I want to handle this myself. Is that alright with you?" You feel a surge of determination as you envision impressing him with your baking skills, knowing that every detail is crafted with him in mind. Moreover, you smile softly, adding, "Didn’t I mention you should look after your own needs? I promise I’m perfectly fine on my own." The warmth of his thoughtful gesture touches you deeply.

With a nod, Sunday recognizes your longing for independence and hesitates momentarily before stepping back, allowing you the space to carry on. Yet, you notice a flicker of conflict in his eyes, as he tussles with your desire to prioritize his own needs while he is left wanting to ensure you’re truly okay.

You let out a relieved smile, the tension in your shoulders easing as you grab a large mixing bowl. With determination, you begin whisking together the rich, velvety chocolate pudding and cold milk, your hands moving in stirring circles. However, the absence of an electric mixer quickly becomes apparent; the task proves to be far more laborious than you anticipated. Within minutes, your arm begins to ache, the constant motion wearying and unyielding. You can only imagine how effortlessly the mixture would have transformed into a thick, luscious consistency had you only plugged in the machine.

Frustration wells up, and you set the bowl down with a soft thud, letting out a groan that echoes in the quiet kitchen. It doesn't go unnoticed—Sunday, with his unwavering attention, shifts his focus toward you. You take a moment to rub your tired face, finding solace in the brief respite. When you open your eyes again, you’re met with a sight that leaves you momentarily speechless. He quietly steps in to continue the task, his movements determined and graceful, a stark contrast to your earlier struggle.

His gaze finds yours, conveying an unspoken message full of insistence, urging you to take a break. Somehow, it makes you realize that both of you deserve a moment of pause—even as you remind him that he should do the same.

Once you feel prepared, you gently lift yourself, ready to tackle the task once more. With a playful nudge, you encourage Sunday to shift aside. Though he hesitates for a moment, a subtle smile dances across his face as he shakes his head in mock reluctance, ultimately giving way. With a sense of accomplishment, you carefully pop the now perfectly whisked chocolate pudding into the cool embrace of the refrigerator, the two of you working in delightful harmony.

After allowing the rich pudding to chill for a tantalizing ten minutes, anticipation bubbles within you as you dash to the fridge. Once back at your workstation, you dive in with enthusiasm, scooping a generous spoonful of the creamy filling into each delicate tart shell. As you work, you catch sight of Sunday thoughtfully tidying up the supplies you’ve set aside, effortlessly managing the clutter without any prompting. You can’t help but appreciate his consideration; perhaps his arrival in your kitchen wasn’t an obstacle but rather a serendipitous opportunity to deepen your connection in this serene moment.

In a separate, spacious bowl, you pour in the glistening whipping cream, its surface shimmering in the light. Gradually, you add a dusting of powdered sugar, the fine granules drifting like soft snowflakes into the bowl. Sunday takes charge of the electric mixer, the rhythmic whirring filling the air as he beats the mixture. You watch with a mix of pride and longing as it transforms into a thick, airy concoction, soft peaks forming elegantly. Yet, a frown tugs at your lips, a small shadow crossing your heart. Sunday catches the shift in your expression and looks momentarily puzzled, though his expression is somewhat hard to distinguish due to its subtlety.

With a pastry bag graced with a star-shaped tip in hand, you take a moment to admire the cloud-like whipped cream before you begin piping it atop the chocolate pudding. Each swirl is an artistic flourish, an invitation to indulge. Finally, with a flourish of your wrist, you sprinkle finely grated chocolate over each tart, letting the shards fall like dark confetti, completing the dessert with a touch of opulence. The tarts shimmer under the kitchen lights, each one a masterpiece waiting to be savored.

“What exactly is it that’s left you feeling dissatisfied?” Sunday’s voice is gentle, almost coaxing, as it weaves its way through the heavy air of disappointment that briefly clouds your expression. You take a moment, inhaling deeply, as though the breath might help you gather your thoughts and ease the sting of regret that’s been lingering ever since the mishap.

“I accidentally made the wrong pastry,” you confess with a hint of sorrow threading through your words. The realization washes over you like a cold wave, and you feel a mix of frustration and regret bubbling just beneath the surface. “Pudding tarts should have that perfect, rich custardy filling—something dense, comforting, and evocative of home,” you explain, your voice trailing off as the weight of your disappointment seeps into the atmosphere around you. Despite the undeniable beauty of the creation before you, it feels tarnished by the expectations you had set in your mind.

The tart glistens under the soft, warm light, the delicate surface boasting intricate patterns and hues that speak volumes of your skill and dedication. Yet, instead of pride, you find yourself marred by the haunting presence of your error. “But instead, I ended up with a lighter, smoother pastry cream…” Your voice falters, “I—I wanted to present you with a pudding, not this…” The words escape your lips softer than intended, almost like a whispered secret, and you feel a pang of anxiety rip through you, praying he hadn’t caught the slip of your tongue—the inadvertent mention of 'pudding' that hangs in the air, uninvited and heavy with unfulfilled intent.

The tension in your chest tightens painfully as you await his response, your heart racing. You wish more than anything you could snatch back the moment, rewind time, and recapture the perfect sentiment you had hoped to convey. Each passing second feels stretched, laden with anticipation, leaving you to grapple not only with the pastry but the delicate thread of expectation that now hangs between you.

“Haha—” Sunday chuckled softly, the familiar sound wrapping around you like a warm blanket. His tone, soothing and free from mockery, eased the tension in your chest. “It seems the use of coercion is unnecessary; you’ve openly admitted that your actions were motivated for me. Though, I wouldn't consider myself somebody worth this effort,” You felt your cheeks flush as you lowered your head, a mixture of embarrassment and defiance flooding through you. With a sigh, you crossed your arms tightly, trying to adopt a façade of nonchalance, though inside, you were anything but calm. ", I appreciate this, and while I may have my perceptions of who I am and how to make amends for my past, I'll make an effort to be open towards your guidance and support."

Even amidst the uncertainty of his potential error, he showered you with praise, his voice rich with warmth and encouragement. As his gaze lingered on you, a gentle glow sparkled in his eyes, illuminating the kindness within. Yet, there was also a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, a mischievous glint that ignited something within you. With a swift and daring sense of rebellion, you lifted your head, your hands dusted with flour from your latest baking adventure. In a moment of light-hearted defiance, you playfully swiped the white powder across his cheek, leaving behind a mark of your shared joy.

Sunday's expression transformed into a mask of confusion, his wings twitching in response and his eyebrows arched high as he sensed the powder settling onto his skin like fine dust. The Halovian slowly raised a gloved hand, fingertips brushing against his cheek, and stared at the pale residue now clinging to them, bewilderment etched across his features, as if he were piecing together a puzzle that made no sense. “That’s for laughing at me.” you declared, attempting to veil your embarrassment.

You quickly shifted your stance, the flour dusting your hands as you brushed them on the kitchen towel that hung over the oven, accompanied by a pair of well-worn mittens. A soft huff escaped your lips as you turned to look at him, unable to suppress the smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “Here,” you said, your voice laced with a hint of embarrassment. “I... I’m sorry for, um, this.” With that, you handed him the towel, offering him a chance to clean himself up from the minor chaos that had erupted in the kitchen.

As he took the towel from you, you felt a flutter of nerves in your stomach. A foreign affection blossomed within his proximity. You turned your attention to the nearby counter, reaching for a plate that gleamed under the warm light. Carefully, you arranged a couple of freshly baked tarts atop the plate, their golden crusts glistening invitingly. You hesitated for a moment, the weight of the moment making your heart race. “Welcome to the Astral Express, Sunday,” you finally said, your voice steadier now, filled with a mixture of excitement and a touch of apprehension about sharing this special place with him.

The weary man stood with his wings, once a proud emblem of paradise and hope, now curling protectively toward his lips, as if concealing a smile that flickered with the subtle brightness of a distant star, shimmering deep within the hazel depths of his eyes. Each gesture you made seemed to awaken a long-buried emotion within him, one he had long since surrendered in his ascent to the formidable role of family patriarch.

The crushing weight of responsibility had created an immense chasm between him and the warmth of joy he had once embraced so freely, a chasm that had only widened with the recent separation from his beloved sister. Memories of their laughter and shared dreams haunted him, leaving a palpable void that echoed with the yearning for those lighter, cherished moments of their youth. The gleam of hope he had once held dimmed, overshadowed by the ache of loss and the burdens of duty, yet as he looked at you, an ember of that joy flickered, igniting the faintest hint of a smile.

Sunday chuckled softly, breaking the comfortable silence between you. “You know, I appreciate this more than you realize. But there is no need to go through all this effort just to make me feel welcome,” he said, the warmth in his voice evident.

“I think you're worth it,” you replied with a smile, your eyes sparkling as you lifted the tart to your lips. The rich, chocolate flavor enveloped your senses, sending a wave of sweetness through you. As you savored the moment, you caught a glimpse of nostalgia flickering in Sunday’s eyes.

He stared into the distance, lost in thought. “This reminds me of my sister and those afternoons in the kitchen,” he began, his voice low and distant. “We’d whip up all sorts of things, but I always went straight for the pudding. I remember getting scolded for sneaking too much—” He chuckled at the memory, a light blush creeping across his cheeks. “I just couldn’t help myself. The way it melted in my mouth…”

You leaned closer, intrigued. “What did she say when she caught you?”

“She would get this stern look on her face, arms crossed. ‘Sunday, save some for everyone else!’” He recited her words, and the image was vivid; a younger version of him with a cheeky grin, caught in the act. "It had a considerable impact on my singing voice," he explained, his tone relaxed as he recounted the experience. "Because of this, my instructor urged me to avoid certain habits and practices, emphasizing the importance of preserving my vocal quality so that I could perform at my absolute best." He chuckled softly as he continued, "Our teacher referred to me as a duckling, a nickname that stuck with me throughout my lessons."

You both smile, the moment stretching comfortably as you take another bite of the tart, the chocolate-rich and decadent. The room felt warmer, filled with the echoes of shared memories and the sweet taste of connection. “Here’s to the pudding bandit,” you teased, raising your tart in a mock toast.

Sunday couldn't help but shake his head at the fond absurdity you displayed before playing along. "To the pudding bandit," he echoed, clinking his tart against yours, his eyes twinkling with delight. You both took a bite simultaneously, savoring not only the sweetness of the dessert but also the deeper bond forming between you—one chocolatey bite at a time.

Fin.

A/N | I pray I wrote Sunday accurately... I made it long to make up for my lack of Sunday content. I was afraid I'd write him poorly, and even now, I try my best to stick to what I know and describe more than include dialog. I fear writing them ooc. Sobs.

[sundaysconsort]

Sunday theme?! 👀✨ohhhh

Can I request for sunday x ghost! Fem reader who is already with him since childhood, like she is Imaginary his friend, but she is still with him when he became astral express member.

She is someone who sunday trust about his secret and when he want to making a plan about the dream world, he search a solution to make fem reader can be alive again, he just want to thank her for be with him all these years . Ghost! Fem reader just feeling okay that she is not alive, she just want sunday to be happy thats all and when he became one of trailblazer member she is still there for him. Their feelings are mutual like romantic type.

Entry: " No Death May Do Us Part "

Pairing: HSR! Sunday | Reader

Information: You have been a figment of his imagination for as long as he can remember—a figure who comforts him during his darkest nights. Over time, he comes to realize that you are more than just an image created in his mind; you are something much greater. He is determined to bring you into his ideal realm. However, even he has limits, and you remain a beacon of light, guiding him on his journey. | 2.2k Word Count

Tags: Slow Burn, Tenderness, Mutual Pinning, Admiration, Hurt/Comfort, Self Doubt, Longing, Appreciation, Confession, Childhood Friends, Fluff, Ghost Reader.

Sunday was entangled in a haunting belief that he had lost you forever, cast away from the radiant paradise he had once envisioned—not solely for his people but for you as well. In the depths of his mind, that dream had imploded into fine, shimmering stardust, the weight of his perceived failure draping across him like a heavy, dark shroud. You, the spirited woman who had once curled up beside him as he poured his soul into the ivory keys of his childhood piano, had now morphed into a mere echo, flickering in the pits of his fading memory. Each frustrated note he struck reverberated with an ache, an attempt to breach the daunting chasm created by his tumultuous journey yet to come aboard the Astral Express.

Oh, how he longed to hear the familiar tones of your voice again, each syllable a soothing melody that played like a gentle breeze across his senses. Memories steeped, echoing in his mind like the sweet chime of distant bells, stirring feelings of warmth and joy that enveloped him like a cherished embrace on a cold winter's night. Those moments shared—conversations filled with love—wrapped around him, creating a cocoon of comfort that he yearned to revisit, reminding him of a connection that transcended time and distance.

“No death may do us part.'” This whimsical vow once uttered with joy between you and him as mere children, a promise made by the young boy version of himself and his 'imaginary friend', now holds a profound weight in his heart. The words echo through his thoughts, a haunting reminder of the bond you shared, intertwining your souls in a love that transcends even the boundaries of mortality.

He often found himself engulfed in a profound introspection, questioning the very essence of your existence. Were you merely a figment of his chaotic imagination, conjured by the loneliness that enveloped his heart, yearning for companionship and understanding? Or could you be something far more transcendent—a divine blessing from Xipe?

Nestled deep within the tangled labyrinth of his emotions, he battled with a bittersweet reality: you were a spirit trapped in a merciless limbo, a wandering ghost gliding through the lit streets of Penacony. The city, once a beacon of hope and joy in his mind, now felt like a deceptive paradise, a place where beauty was tinged with sorrow. Each corner he turned seemed haunted by echoes of you, intertwined with the melancholy of your fate, leaving him to ponder the fragile line between longing and despair.

Though you never overtly revealed your fragility, he felt it in the weariness of your fading existence, the way your spectral form flickered like a fragile candle struggling against the suffocating embrace of encroaching darkness. He clearly recalls the precious moments when you reached out, yearning to wipe away his tears with your trembling hands, only to find that the effort was always too monumental, an insurmountable challenge. You appeared sorrowful, yet fiercely determined, lingering in a half-life, steadfastly remaining by his side, your voice a whisper that trailed behind him, echoing encouragement and heartfelt concern throughout his childhood.

What fascinated him most was how you seemed to age gracefully alongside him, your essence maturing within the fabric of the realm you existed in. Sunday ached to rescue you from the twisted chains of solitude that ensnared you, to liberate you from the cruel fate that had snatched away your life. As vivid memories of youth and giggles surged back, he held them close to his heart, even as he wrestled with the heavy burdens of guilt and regret that had haunted him since embarking on the Astral Express. All he could have done better.

Sunday carries a deep-seated disdain for the person he once was, haunted by the echoes of his past mistakes and shortcomings. Yet, he knows you possess a remarkable heart, one that sees beyond his flaws. One that is capable of embracing the possibility of redemption. You chose to care for him despite his imperfections, recognizing the strength they reveal in him. He is no monster. Perhaps this clarity comes from the innocence of youth, a belief that genuine goodness can emerge from even the darkest struggles. You, too, saw the beauty in his dream—a vision of a better world that he strives to achieve. Every day, he tirelessly searches for a way to manifest that dream, no longer for the ideal of Penacony, but primarily for you and his dearest baby sister. The two most important elements within his life.

After enduring defeat and comprehending the repercussions of his actions—how his misguided intentions had led to the suffering of those he cherished—he decided to pursue his own redemption. He yearned for the chance to apologize to you, to communicate his deep gratitude for the tenacious companionship that had stitched together the fragile seams of his heart. Once, you were two innocent souls intertwined by fate, and the question that nagged at his mind was: where could you be now?

Days bled into nights as he roamed the streets of Penacony, driven to conceal his identity in a land he once governed with authority. His heart was heavy with the fear that you might still be waiting at the piano you once shared in a place he nostalgically dubbed home. The mere thought of you, patient and hopeful as you had been in your shared childhood, tugged insistently at his heartstrings. How could he bear the burden of knowing you possibly lingered there? Were you destined to remain trapped in this twilight world? Is this separation punishment for his failure to embrace harmony? Amid all the struggle, he sought order under the guidance of Gopher Wood—ultimately a grave miscalculation that ensnared those he loved in his misguided vision of paradise.

He desperately dreamed of creating a world where you could take tangible form.

Upon his return to the express, a twist of fate awaited him. The lobby lay enveloped in shadows, an eerie silence wrapping around him like a thick fog until a familiar, haunting note drifted through the air like a ghostly breeze. It flowed gently, beckoning him toward its source. As he approached the empty piano bench in the Express, he was astonished to see your faint image—a vision of focused concentration, your hands tremulously grazing the keys, having difficulty applying enough weight.

Relief washed over him like a gentle tide, melting away the icy grip of doubt that had tightened around his heart. As he looked at you, sitting across from him, warmth flooded his being. Your presence radiated a beauty that seemed untouched by the passage of time, each feature as striking as he remembered. It was as if, in his darkest moments, your image would materialize to guide him, no matter how far he roamed.

"'See? Just let it flow out of you, like this,' he heard you softly murmur to yourself, your voice barely above a whisper yet carrying the weight of cherished memories. You sensed his presence nearby, and a wave of sentimentality washed over you. He had spoken those very words to you—each syllable a soothing balm that lingered in your mind. 'You can do it too. Come, give it a try.'"

As your gaze intertwined with his, the atmosphere transformed, charged with an electricity that sparked in the air. Everything around you faded into a soft haze, the vibrant colors and distant sounds melting away until it felt as though you were enveloped in a warm silence. In that suspended moment, it was just the two of you—intensely connected, as if the universe had conspired to freeze time and hold you in this perfect stillness, face to face once more.

Your focus returns to the piano, fingers dancing across the keys with grace. A rich tapestry of nostalgia wove itself around you, the melody resonating deeply within both your hearts. The sound fills the room, echoing off the walls, each chord a brushstroke, a masterpiece of emotion, painting the atmosphere with warmth and yearning.

"...this song is familiar to me; I believe I've encountered it once before," Sunday said, his eyes widening with a mix of nostalgia and wonder. It was as if he had been whisked away to a simpler time, a time when every sound carried a hint of magic. He looked at you, a faint smile playing on his lips, as the weight of time momentarily lifted, letting him relive those precious memories that felt so far away yet still lingered in his heart.

"A long time ago, you taught me how to play it," you replied, a gentle smile blooming on your lips, illuminating your ethereal form with a warmth that reached out to him, even from the veil separating your worlds. "I had time to practice while you were busy this passing year. I'll admit, I did miss you..."

His brow furrowed in thought, a hint of sadness shadowing his features. "I see… though I have little recollection of this melody in particular," he confessed, the weight of his words hanging in the air like a forgotten melody.

"I'll teach you," you assured him, your smile unwavering—a beacon of hope amidst the shadows. At that moment, the distance between your two worlds felt as fragile as glass, shimmering with the potential for connection. You reminisced with each note, your bodies almost touching; the warmth of his physical presence starkly contrasted with the coolness of your spectral form.

As if attuned to the unspoken doubts rolling through his mind, you felt compelled to address the silence that hung between you. With a gentle tone, you spoke again, instinctively grasping the complexity of his emotions and the weight of his unexpressed words.

"You are not obligated to carry the burden of my circumstances, Sunday. My deepest desire has always been for you to follow the path that resonates with your heart, rather than succumbing to the expectations of your family or the pressures of Penacony. More than anything, I want you to find true happiness in the choices you make and to embrace the life that fulfills your soul." It was a bittersweet blend of past and present, memory and longing, as the music continued to flow, bringing your hearts together once more.

You didn't crave an apology; that wasn’t what mattered to you. Instead, what you truly yearned for was simply his presence beside you, the warmth of companionship that brought comfort in moments of uncertainty. You understood that sometimes words were unnecessary; it was the connection that counted.

"And if the one I have been seeking, the bearer of my deepest desires, is the very person who can grant me that fulfillment, would she too share this feeling?" Amidst the enchanting melodies that surrounded him, Sunday made a solemn vow—to find the way to restore your essence so that you could finally embrace him as he had always longed to experience. "Would you, in turn, reciprocate my feelings?"

As you shift your position, a soft sigh escapes your lips, carrying with it a mix of longing and tranquility. Your faded hand gently rests atop his, fingers hovering close, as if trying to form a bridge between two worlds. The room is thick with unspoken emotions—a silence that feels charged, one where every heartbeat resonates with the weight of your connection. Though you can't touch him like another living soul might, a spark of hope flickers within you, illuminating the space between your hearts like a gentle flame in the dark.

"Of course," you reply, your voice steady, woven with warmth and an undercurrent of yearning. You sense his gaze shift towards you, eyes filled with an emotion that’s both tender and penetrating. He raises his free hand to brush the air between you as if he could touch the essence of your spirit.

Sunday smiles, a flicker of vulnerability dancing behind his charming exterior, his eyes momentarily betraying a depth of feeling that goes beyond mere charm. The soft glow of his halo seems to shimmer with ethereal light as if it were reflecting his genuine affection for the moment shared between them. “Then let’s not let this moment slip through our fingers,” he suggests, his voice steady but warm. “Can we promise to hold onto this? To each other?” His words hang in the air, inviting a sense of commitment and connection that feels both fragile and profound, urging them to embrace the bond forming in their hearts.

You take a deep breath, feeling the rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins as your heart pounds like a drum in your chest. The air is thick with anticipation, and a sense of the unknown hangs tantalizingly in the space between you. "More than anything," you say, your voice steady yet infused with emotion, "I want to explore this… whatever ‘this’ is, together." The words linger, heavy with possibility, as you meet his golden gaze, hoping they share your desire to uncover the mysteries that lie ahead.

His eyes soften, revealing a glimmer of paradise within their depths. The warmth of his gaze envelops you, making your heart flutter as if dancing to an unheard melody. "Together it is, then," he murmurs, his voice a gentle caress that fills the space around them with an electric tenderness.

At that moment, the world fades away—the worries, the noise, all of it dissolves like mist in the morning sun. There's a palpable connection as if their souls are intertwined, each breath they take syncing in a rhythm that feels both exhilarating and comforting. He shifts closer next to you on the bench, and you can feel the warmth radiating from him like the sun breaking through a cloudy sky, banishing shadows and illuminating everything in its path.

Every heartbeat reflects the promise of shared dreams and whispered secrets. The piano, once the center of attention, now stood silent and neglected. In that moment, you both felt an unspoken connection—two kindred spirits intertwined in a bond that transcended words.

A/N: I hope this was to your taste! Ended up finding inspiration from other series, including Anohana and Wuthering Waves for this. I'm not the most satisfied with this, but I'll leave you to be the judge of its quality. I hope you enjoyed it. <3

[sundaysconsort]

phainon with a reader who’s kinda like sakura matou from fate/stay night: heaven’s feel? :0

Entry: " Light Candles In Rome "

Pairing: HSR! Phainon | Reader

Information: You've been a companion of Phainon for as long as you can remember, and yet, often feel as though you'd forever live beneath him. He is your hero, and you feel like you're undeserving of his light, as well as his protection. You're unworthy of his love, you're convinced, and only find purpose when made useful to him in some way, so what happens once he guides you to embrace yourself? To see the person he most adores? | 3.4k Word Count

Tags: Phainon x Reader, Anxiety, Fluff, Slow Burn (implied), Gentle Introspection, Found Comfort, Understanding, Light Teasing, Angst (?) with a good ending, Romantic Tension, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Dark Themes, Deep Conversations, Confessions, Tender Moments, Themes of Hope.

Warnings: Mentions of Anxiety and Social Discomfort, Major self-doubt and Internalized Pressure, Feelings of Unworthiness, Poor Self-Image.

You stood at the edge of an exquisitely adorned celebration, your attention fixed on Phainon as he effortlessly moved through the crowd of guests. The flickering glow of candlelight mingled with the bright light of torches, casting a warm hue over the event. Yet, amidst the brilliance, you felt as though the lights illuminated everyone but you. This gathering was not meant to honor individuals like yourself; it was a tribute to the heroes of Amphoreus, the legendary realm known as The Eternal Land. Tonight, the festive atmosphere celebrated the brave warriors who had fought tirelessly to achieve this fleeting moment of peace, a victory that felt fragile.

You wore a delicate white dress, meticulously crafted from an ethereal fabric that gracefully embraced your figure, but it did little to alleviate the gnawing sense of inferiority in your heart. As you observed the proud men and women around you, all celebrating the achievements of your hero, the disparity felt almost tangible. Phainon stood out among the crowd, his silver hair shimmering like spun moonlight under the warm lighting. He wore an impeccably tailored outfit suitable for the occasion, in stark contrast to the simple attire he usually favored, and this transformation struck you deeply.

Everywhere he moved, his presence seemed to draw attention. Laughter and exuberant applause surrounded him as he was whisked away by a partner who exuded elegance and confidence—an image so strikingly beautiful that it felt worlds apart from your self-perception. A weak smile graced your lips, torn between envy and melancholy, as you longed for the courage to join in the merriment and perhaps capture his gaze.

In moments like this, your insecurities reared their heads with a vengeance. You were painfully aware of your lack of experience and the finesse that adorned everyone around you. What could someone as illustrious as Phainon possibly see in you beyond the role of a "kind" friend? These thoughts twisted and turned in your mind, deepening the sense of feeling small and unseen. This feeling intensified during your separations from Phainon, who had the uncanny ability to recognize you and make you feel whole—and, for the first time… loved. You were uncertain if this sentiment was romantic, but his endless charisma illuminated those around him, regardless of whom he engaged with.

Just as you spiraled further into these thoughts, your eyes caught sight of Phainon looking back at you from the dance floor. There was something in his deep, expressive gaze—an undeniable warmth that sent a fluttering sensation through your heart, piercing through your doubts. Moments later, he elegantly broke away from his dance partner and approached you with an air of determination, as if he had been weaving through the crowd in search of you amid the jubilant cheers celebrating his arrival.

“There you are!” he exclaimed, his voice rising above the gentle hum of conversation and laughter. A warm, radiant smile blossomed across his face, illuminating his eyes like the sun breaking through a cloudy sky. “I’ve been searching for you everywhere,” he continued, his tone playful yet earnest. “Would you do me the honor of dancing with me?” His request hung in the air, straightforward and brimming with genuine sincerity, as he extended his hand toward you, inviting you into a moment filled with unspoken promise.

Your heart raced at the unexpected proposition. “Me? But… I don’t know how to dance,” you stammered, your cheeks aflame with a mix of excitement and anxiety as you struggled to meet his gaze. The bubbling exhilaration within you battled against the self-doubt that swirled in your mind, shadowing the joy of his invitation.

“It doesn’t matter,” he assured, his voice calm and encouraging. “I’ll teach you. I just want to savor this moment with you. Please, don’t let fear hold you back.”

His genuine belief in you melted some of your reservations. With a hesitant nod, you took a deep, fortifying breath and stepped forward, feeling the cool stone floor beneath your heels. Phainon extended his hand—warm and inviting—and you felt a rush of emotions as you accepted it.

As you both found your places amidst the rhythm of the music, you felt his hands guiding you with gentleness and precision. Despite the initial tension, he led you with a patience that calmed your nerves, encouraging you every time you stumbled. Gradually, you found your footing, and the anxiety that had weighed heavily on your heart began to lift, replaced by the exhilarating thrill of sharing this moment with him. You reminded yourself that he had specifically sought you out.

“I’m not perfect,” you murmured shyly, a smile lingering on your lips as you surrendered to the rhythm of your movements together. “But I’m glad you chose to dance with me.”

Phainon’s gaze softened as he matched your steps, his aura steady and comforting. “Sometimes, it’s the imperfections that make a moment truly special. You are perfect just as you are. Just be yourself; it’s what I love about you.”

His words caught you completely off-guard, and you locked your eyes onto his charming features, feeling your heart race in overwhelming chaos. Did he confess to loving you? Are you thinking too into it? The thought sent shockwaves through your mind, causing you to barely avoid stumbling as he took the lead once more, twirling you gently before reeling you back in.

With a teasing glint in his eye, he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “What do you say we slip away from this lively celebration a bit early? Just the two of us, like you've always fantasized.” The allure of his invitation sent a delightful shiver down your spine, igniting the palpable chemistry that had simmered between you both for so long. However, a hint of hesitation tugged at your heart, making it difficult to fully embrace such a tempting proposal.

Before you could find the right words, he effortlessly deciphered your hesitation, his knowing smile leaving no room for your usual playful evasiveness. "Let's be honest; you’ve never been skilled at hiding your thoughts, and tonight, I won’t let your usual excuses deter us. All I ask for is a simple acknowledgment. Just say the word, ‘yes,’ and trust me, it’s plain as day that you want to." His words hovered between you, charged with unspoken promise, as you felt the anticipation building in the air around you.

You scanned the cluttered scene around you, heart racing like a trapped animal caught in the glare of oncoming headlights. The vibrant crowd of people surged and swirled, their laughter and chatter blending into a dizzying racket that felt almost suffocating. “But… what if someone notices?” you whispered, voice shaky with uncertainty. A knot of anxiety twisted in your stomach. “I… I really don’t want to make things awkward.” His consistent kindness was a balm to your nerves, but in moments charged with intensity like this, his presence left you breathless, caught in a whirlwind of emotions that sent your mind racing. "If one of the Chrysos Heirs were to go missing…"

He leaned closer, a teasing light in his eyes. “Come on. Don’t you want to have a little excitement? Just for a moment, forget about everything else. Forget my title, and let me be an ordinary man in your life.” His breath tickled your ear, sending another shiver down your spine.

Your heart fluttered at his words, but uncertainty still clung tightly to you. “I… I’ve never really done something like this,” you admitted, glancing anywhere to avoid his gaze.

“I can tell you’ve been waiting for a chance like this,” he pressed, his smile coaxing the walls around your heart to soften. “You’ve been looking at me all night, and I can see how much you want to escape just for a little while.”

“Maybe I have…” you murmured, biting your lip as you stole a glance at him. The thrill of his proposal both excited and terrified you. “But what if they do come looking for us?”

“Let them,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from your face with a gentle touch. “This moment is ours. What matters is what we want, not what they think.”

Your breath caught in your throat at his closeness, the warmth of his gaze making your heart race. “But… what if they find us?” you repeated, your voice wavering.

“Then we’ll just have to be clever about it. Think of a cozy place, just you and me. Isn’t that what you’ve always dreamed of?” It was hard to resist the pull of his enthusiasm.

You felt butterflies stir in your stomach at the thought. “And what… what would we do there?” you asked, your curiosity barely masking your apprehension.

“Maybe we could talk about all the things we’ve kept to ourselves, or just enjoy a quiet moment together without any distractions.” His tone was inviting, pulling you in like a gentle tide.

Your heart raced, visions of possibilities flashing through your mind. “That does sound nice…” you whispered though the words felt foreign on your tongue.

“Tempting, isn’t it?” he teased, his eyes glimmering with mischief. “So, what do you say? Let’s have a little fun tonight.”

You hesitated, the idea sparking a sense of adventure within you. Finally, the thrill outweighed your doubts. “Okay,” you agreed softly, your voice barely audible. “Let’s go.”

A triumphant smile broke across his face. “Perfect. Follow me. I promise you won’t regret it.” As you took a step forward, something in you stirred with an unexpected excitement, ready to embrace the night ahead.

As Phianon whisked you away from the jubilant crowd, you couldn't help but stare at him in awe. The way his hand grasped yours completely, linking fingers, sent a thrill through your body. Moving to a quieter spot, hidden from prying eyes, you felt a mixture of excitement and apprehension.

The night air was crisp and refreshing, with a gentle breeze weaving through the branches, causing the leaves to whisper secrets to one another. Leaning against the sturdy trunk of an ancient oak, Phianon held your hand firmly, his fingers threading through yours. The silver light of the moon cast a soft glow on his face, illuminating the warmth in his deep-set eyes as he turned to meet your gaze. "I've been waiting for a moment like this," he said, his voice a melodic whisper that seemed to resonate with your very thoughts.

You swallowed hard, the tension thickening the air between you. “Me too,” you confessed at last, attempting to inject a note of confidence into your tone despite the uncertainty fluttering in your chest. “It’s nice to escape the noise for a while, isn’t it?”

His smile was infectious, an upturn of his lips that brought a spark to his eyes. “Yeah, it's more peaceful here. With you.” The sound of crickets chirping in the background and the gentle rustling of branches created a tranquil symphony, making this secluded sanctuary feel like it belonged solely to you two.

As the serene atmosphere wrapped around you like a comforting embrace, you took a deep breath, the fresh scent of pine and earth filling your lungs. Your heart raced, each beat amplifying your need to address the growing feelings between you. “May I ask you something?” you ventured, your voice slightly unsteady, testing the waters with cautious optimism.

“Of course,” he replied, his expression open and encouraging as if he was inviting you to share your innermost thoughts.

Your palms felt damp against his warm hand, a mixture of anxiety and hope swirling within you. “Lately, I’ve been… well, I’ve been wondering. Do you like me?” The straightforwardness of the question hung heavily in the cool night air, charged with the potential gravity of his response.

He raised an eyebrow, surprise flickering across his features like a shooting star. "Like you? Of course! You’re amazing."

In that instant, a delicate flutter of hope blossomed in your chest, but the need for further clarity gnawed at you. “But do you like me as family, or… as a girl? A partner?” The question tumbled out, raw and unguarded, laying bare your vulnerability under the canopy of stars.

A long pause enveloped you, thick with unspoken thoughts and the weight of anticipation. You longed to cease dancing around the truth, preferring the comfort of undeniable words instead of piecing together unspoken intentions.

With a playful smirk, he shifted closer, his teasing demeanor resuming as he met your gaze with a twinkle of mischief. “You want me to spell it out for you, huh? It’s not every day I get probed like this.” He leaned in even farther, a teasing look igniting in his eyes. “Are you sure you can handle the truth? It might be too much for a sweet individual like you.”

Your heart raced at his provocative tone, caught in the delightful tug-of-war between irritation and excitement. “Please stop dodging the question. Just be honest, Not as the esteemed heir, but as Phainon.”

With a laugh, he rubbed the back of his neck, his bravado wavering under the weight of your earnestness. “Alright, alright. You’ve caught me. It’s not just family affection. You’re… well, you’re someone I’ve always cared for more than I should have.”

His teasing demeanor dissolved, replaced by a palpable seriousness that sent a shiver down your spine. “I never said it before, not in my role as a Chrysos Heir. It felt too risky. But you deserve to know: I like you, like really like you. As more than just a sister, more than a friend. A partner.”

The sincerity in his voice washed over you like a warm wave, the flutter of hope within you transforming into a vibrant pool of joy and relief that intertwined in an exquisite dance.

As they stood together, the air crackling with unspoken words, a familiar warmth enveloped them. Moments passed as their laughter faded, leaving an intimate silence filled with the weight of everything unshared between them. He looked down at you, his heart racing as he recalled all the times you had been there to patch his wounds, both physical and emotional.

With each shared glance, the tension shifted, an invisible thread drawing them closer. He brushed a stray hair behind your ear, his fingers grazing your skin, igniting a spark that felt both exhilarating and terrifying. You felt your heart race, but alongside that excitement, a whisper of doubt crept in—why would he choose someone like you?

Your breaths mingled, soft and hesitant. He hesitated just a beat longer, searching your eyes for any sign of doubt. You looked up at him, but you couldn't shake the feeling that you were somehow not enough for him. His gaze held such intensity, and you wondered if he truly saw you, flaws and all.

With a gentle tilt of your chin, he invited himself in, and as he leaned closer, your mind raced with all the reasons he shouldn't want this. The kiss that followed was delicate, a soft exploration that spoke volumes of the connection you had slowly built over countless shared experiences. But as his lips brushed against yours, a part of you felt unworthy of such tenderness.

As the kiss lingered, he pulled back slightly, a teasing sparkle dancing in his crystal blue eyes. “You know, I’ve been waiting for you to invite me in like that for ages,” he whispered, his voice low and playful.

A warm blush flared in your cheeks, spreading like wildfire, yet the heat mingled with embarrassment. You looked down, fiddling with your fingers, struggling to find a reply as insecurity gnawed at your insides. You couldn’t ignore the feeling that there was something inherently wrong with you—how could he possibly want you when there were so many others so much better?

Before you could gather your thoughts, he leaned closer, drawing you into his orbit. His breath tickled your ear, warm and inviting, sending delightful shivers down your spine, yet deep down, your heart felt heavy with doubt. “I was beginning to think I needed to adopt a bolder strategy,” he murmured, the hint of mystery weaving through his tone. “But that’s my little secret.”

A frown tugged at your lips, frustration bubbling up within you. “If I’ve laid my heart bare,” you protested softly, glancing up through your lashes, “then you have to spill your secrets too.” The sparkle of curiosity in your eyes misrepresented the vulnerability you felt—would he be willing to share himself with someone like you?

“Hmm, how about this one: I can’t stop thinking about how many times I’ve wanted to kiss you like this?” He leaned closer, his gaze intense and sincere. “Does that count?”

Your heart fluttered at his admission, but the doubt lingered, making it hard to embrace the moment fully. “Yeah- …yeah, that counts,” you stammered, your voice faltering as your cheeks heated even more. “So …what’s stopping you from another?” you whispered cautiously, just wanting to understand how someone so seemingly perfect could want you.

His eyes sparkled as he brought his lips just inches from yours, the tension palpable in the air. In a low, sultry whisper, he breathed out, “Nothing at all.” Then, with a gentle tenderness, he closed the distance and kissed you softly, his lips caressing yours like a feather, igniting a warmth that spread through you, leaving a sweet sensation long after the kiss had ended.

After the kiss, he pulled back just slightly, his lips brushing against your nose as he planted a soft kiss there. A tender smile spread across his face as he moved to your cheek, pressing a gentle kiss that felt like a promise. He then leaned forward, placing a delicate kiss on your forehead, a silent declaration of his affection.

Finally, he shifted to your shoulder, resting his head there, his breath warm against your skin. In that moment of stillness, he hoped you could feel the depth of his feelings—the way he cherished every part of you, the way you made him feel alive. It was his silent way of saying what words sometimes failed to convey, hoping you would understand that this was more than a fleeting moment; it was a connection he held dear.

As he lingered in the dim light, he sensed the tension coiling tightly in your shoulders. With a gentle, deliberate movement, he lifted his head to meet your gaze. "Hey," he murmured softly, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver down your spine. "You okay?"

You hesitated, a flicker of uncertainty dancing in your eyes, casting shadows across your face. "I just… sometimes I feel like I don’t deserve this. Like I’m not enough."

His heart ached at your words, a sharp twist of empathy wrapping around him. "You are more than enough," he insisted, his voice steady and sincere. "Don’t let those dark doubts confuse what’s real between us."

Your lips tightened into a thin line, and he could see the struggle etched in your features. "It’s hard to shake those feelings. I want to believe you, I really do.” you replied, your voice barely a whisper, laced with vulnerability.

Taking your hands in his, he squeezed gently, a lifeline threaded between you. "Then let me help you. Look at me—this is real, and it’s not going anywhere. You’ve captured my heart, and I desperately want you to see what I see."

Your expression softened, a flicker of hope igniting in your eyes, and he hoped that his sincerity could pierce through the veil of doubt clouding your heart. "I see you," he continued, his gaze locked onto yours with an intensity that felt magnetic, "the amazing person you are. Just trust in us."

You took a deep breath, drawing in the weight of his words, nodding slowly as if weighing them like precious gems. At that moment, he knew you both had crossed an invisible threshold together, a small but significant step towards trusting in the love you were nurturing, like a tender bloom pushing through the frost.

A/N: From what I understood of her character, she's kind and has a poor self-image due to past trauma. Honestly, I knew of the Fate series but never got into it due to the complexity of it's story. I noticed she's got another side present in a separate route, but, assumed you wanted her kinder self. One where she's timid, sweet, hesitant, etc. I hope I wrote the reader to your satisfaction! If not, you can always send another request.

[sundaysconsort]

Entry : " My Clematis "

Pairing : Oc! Shadow (@aventurineswife) | Oc! Strelitzia (@sundaysconsort)

Information : Two wounded souls finding solace in each other, no matter how short their time may be. Reciting an old tale they once heard. Generally, it's a fic built on tooth rotting fluff. Enjoy.

Tags : Fluff, Mutual Admiration, Quiet Acknowledgment, Found Family?(However you see their dynamic, honestly.), Comfort, OC x OC.

Word Count : 1.1k

A gentle breeze carried the scent of wildflowers. Several rose-tinted blossoms were in season this time of year. Their delicate petals swayed beautifully in what felt like a gust for life so fragile. The whistle reached the ears of a young lady sitting in the grass, the wind unaware of how its song soothed her who could hear.

Her hair is distinctly beautiful, resembling the very same petals that soar. At peace with her privacy, her eyes close as she basks in the setting sun's embrace. Leaning back, she'd feel her head meet with freshly cut grass, its smell lulling her in deeper; both arms spread on either side of her body.

crunch

"-?"

The woman's eyes would flutter open at the sound of crushed leaves beneath the visitor's boot. Her two feathered wings flinch, alerted by the sudden appearance of life besides her own, only for her gaze to be met with the familiar blue stare she'd grown fond of.

Shadow.

Her lips part, only to share silence. Smiling fondly towards the woman, Shadow took this as a silent welcome.

Oh my Clematis Hope that bloomed with darkness nigh Oh my Clematis Stay forever by my side

"You always have enjoyed your own company, surprised I found you... Stella. Almost like you wanted to be found." Her companion spoke, voice rich with warmth. Bringing her companion further comfort, a moment of solace before they must leave for their duties. "May I?"

Met with a quiet nod, the women share their smiles, reflecting off the other as the sun casts its rays onto the moon. Lowering herself to the ground, she'd set her belongings aside. Staring down at the peculiar woman.

"Stella, may I ask something?" Shadow receives another nod from Stella, encouraging her to continue. Watching as Shadow brought her knees towards her chest in a solo embrace, sat by her side. Meanwhile, Stella remains with her body lying on the grass, gazing up at the sky. "Do you believe in God? The Aeons?"

You bloomed from the abyss Climbing walls to reach the sky See the universe shine And the starlight in your eyes

This question seemed to take Stella back, lifting herself up to be equal level next to the taller woman. The eyes dilated, she'd go from staring at the brunette to admiring the view ahead.

"-Once upon a time, mankind had religion and believed in God…" Stella would murmur for the first time, her voice fragile and genuine, somewhat hoarse from its long slumber. Matching Shadow's position, she'd cradle her legs, pressing them in her chest with her chin resting against her knees. "They believed that which could not be solved by human strength, was the Will of God. Believed that the entire universe revolved around the Earth."

For once, the woman spoke with ease. Quoting literature she had read not too long ago, a passage of a planet that lost its belief and ultimately met its end. A tragic tale of a distant land.

"They thought that unreachable place that connected with the sky was… where the gods lived." Shadow would continue off of Stella's voice. Surprised to hear her melody.

It was a rare treasure, to hear the voice of Stella. Soft as a woolen blanket. A delicacy only a select few could savor, every word all the more special.

When the darkness blinds my sight I will find you by your scent If I slumber forevermore Tell me you won’t leave my world

"From the moment humanity left the universe, we all forgot about God." Stella quotes, shifting closer to Shadow, just enough to lean her head against her shoulder. Careful for her wings to not brush against her, unable to hide that innate fear of bringing harm.

Shadow felt herself at ease, leaning her head on top of the pink-haired woman's, both souls distant from reality.

Once more, the breeze soared between the women. A stray blossom caught in Stella's hair, blending in, but not from Shadow's keen eye. Careful to remove it without brushing against the striking orange feathers that shielded Stella's ears.

Without a word, Stella's head wings lose their tension. Folding around her vision, shielding her eyes from the sun that has long set. Resting her eyes, Shadow is left to admire the starry night sky alone, and yet, all she can see is the everlasting sun against her side.

Reaching for Stella's hand, she chose to intertwine their fingers gently. Shadow finds herself pleased with Stella's acceptance of her actions, lending each other a gentle squeeze of reassurance in this often dark reality.

As if to say,

I'm here.

Oh my clematis Hope that bloomed with darkness nigh Oh my Clematis Stay forever by my side

"But if belief in god is human," Shadow whispered, her tone of velvet. Stella couldn't get enough, humming quietly in response. Yet not once would she speak, afraid to interrupt what she knew had yet to come. "If all I can do as a human is to believe…."

Shadow would pause, thinking to herself.

My god.

Stella's eyes open in due time, wings shifting to reveal her gaze to the outside world, expecting Shadow to elaborate further.

My universe.

Catching Shadow in her stare, Stella's lips perk at each end. A subtle smile reaches her expression, and for once, it meets her eyes. Typically left dull, her purple and blue eyes glimmer with a yellow hue.

A reminder of hope, refusing to be forgotten.

Oh my Clematis Withered hopes and darkness nigh Oh my Clematis Can’t you stay here by my side…

Shadow knew her words were highly anticipated, yet not expected of her. Witnessing the often mute Stella rotate her body, her hand untangled itself from Shadow's embrace, much to her disappointment.

"…My dear clematis." Shadow whispers, tone heavy and weak, a voice carried in the wind while her hair swayed in the wind alongside Stella's, a few strands tickling her own cheek.

Each hand of Stella seeks out her companion's skin, careful, and deliberate, they meet with Shadow's bare arms. Tracing her biceps, down towards her hands.

Stella lifts to her knees in front of Shadow, blocking her view of the sky before falling against her suddenly in response, initiating a warm embrace. One she believed Shadow desperately needed after leaving Penacony behind, as well as someone Shadow cared for deeply, a man who she prayed to unite with each night.

Now finding themselves situated on Amphoreus, with little time to cry, Stella took it upon herself to shoulder any burden Shadow was willing to share. Separated from the rest of their companions for an uncertain period of time.

Feeling her body move on its own, Shadow began pulling Stella closer to her chest. Arms tightly woven around her shorter frame. Not realizing she had been holding her breath, she'd soon release a shaken exhale, closing her eyes.

Both have lived terribly cruel lives and yet, that can be forgotten in this moment shared.

No matter how temporary it may be.

Fin.

[sundaysconsort]

Entry :" Fantastic " Pairing : Aventurine | Oc! Shadow (@aventurineswife) Information : The aftermath of two fractured souls finding solace in the storm. It rains in Penacony for the sake of theatrics... Word count is around 1.5k. Pardon any error, I'm beyond rusty. Also my first fic of Shadow, and Aventurine... Agh. Lets just get on with the story! Tags : Mutual Pinning Mention, Slow Burn, Fluff, Romance, Intimacy, Emotional Healing, Comfort, Intimacy, Reflection, Reminiscing, French kiss, Hair tug, Mild spice.

“You’re an idiot,”

Her voice echoes in his mind, a bittersweet melody leaving an aftertaste on the tongue upon their departure. A sense of longing envelopes his body, leaving a chill in its absence. Aventurine couldn't help but wonder if they had advanced any further. Would he have had an opportunity to taste something sweeter?

And I'm thinking of you Well, I might be higher than God (Higher than God) Feeling strange 'bout the way we left things in the back of the car (Back of the car)

Allowing the ghost of a laugh to rumble from his throat, he'd comb a hand through his hair, drenched after his lapse in the rain. If he takes a step forward now, would she be there? He wouldn't doubt her to expect his inevitable return, Or perhaps, he's the only fool standing on his own in such unruly conditions.

The young man would pivot on his foot, turning to the direction whence he came. Oh, how her tone softened while maintaining a firm assertiveness in its wake. He cherished that woman's voice.

Far too smitten for his own good, it was frightening.

“I’ve been called worse.”

Mm, can't believe that I'm in pain I need to disassociate I just wanna be a good passenger

“And you’ll be called worse again if you don’t stop talking and kiss me already,” she said, her voice trembling, but her gaze steady.

Aventurine froze, the sound of rain muffled. Her words repeated once more in his mind.

"-kiss me already,"

His limbs began to thaw at the sight of her subtle smile, a smile that reached her eyes; filled with sweet intent. Unable to resist, his trembling hands cup her face desperately, pulling her into a kiss that was anything but cautious. It was messy, full of what he had hidden in the depths of his heart.

He recalled how Shadow’s fingers found their way towards the collar of his shirt, gripping the material as if anchoring herself to him. Both were caught in an ocean made of their hearts conjoined adoration.

The way his hand made its way to her hair, while the other cradled her cheek tenderly. A contrast against their heated connection between lips, a fight for dominance, where there is no loser. He once dreamed of this, quickly disciplining himself for ever allowing such ideals to creep into his mind,

What about now?

Why can't he pull away?

By now, the couple found themselves tangled in a heated session of lips and tongue, soaked by the ongoing downpour of rain.

I'm feeling fantastic, I'm fucking fantastic I wanna get drunk and watch American classics Drink champagne out of plastic Don't you want someone crazy like me, babe? I'm feeling amazing, I'm fucking amazing I'm high as a kite, I'm sat here picturing you naked You just have to take it If you want someone crazy like me, babe

“Taking two steps backward, n' two steps forward in suit, they refused to let go of each other. Her hand clutched the material of his expensive shirt, pulling him in deeper than what she believed was possible.

Shadow would soon feel a hard surface beneath her figure, what felt like solid stone, somewhat slick from the rain. Leaning back against it for support, she'd feel a knee press between her legs by Aventurine to stabilize himself. Accidentally gripping her hair tighter than he had anticipated at the moment, eliciting a moan in disapproval from her throat.

Opening her eyes with a half-hearted glare, she'd end up pulling away with a flushed expression. Unable to process the way her heart fluttered. A string of saliva connecting the two of their lips remained, snapping as she jerked her head aside. The eyes find interest in their surroundings while the two of them pant like they have traversed the entire world and then some.

"...haah. Haha..."

Boyish laughter escapes the man above her, uncharacteristically soft. One so genuine it kept her lips sealed momentarily. Reminding her of the sweet boy she once knew so well... she'd murmur reminiscently, without much thought. Her consciousness weakened after their kiss.

I be thinking about you While you're down there being a doll It's either a curse or a blessing Every time that you call, oh

"Ka...Kakavasha," Shadow breathes, staggered.

"Ah ah ah. Sweetheart, what did I say about using such a name..?"

Using a hand to roll her gaze back towards him, he'd lean his forehead against her own. Shadow whispers a saddened apology, or rather, she attempts to. Only for a finger to press against her lips, ultimately cutting her off. Her eyes widened at the underlying message, his intense gaze meeting her own.

"Your hair is awfully tousled, yet you remain the most stunning piece of art in this sweet dream of ours. So sickeningly alluring, I simply... can not get enough. Such high stakes... and unsurprisingly a high reward as well..."

Mm, can't believe that I'm in pain I need to disassociate I just wanna be a good passenger

Without much thought, Aventurine's feet lead him astray. Returning to the same location he and Shadow made out, Avgin eye's survey the area.

The handsome young man couldn't avoid his own disappointment flushing out any hope that she'd have stayed, his ears met with the distant hum of music n' cheers in the dead of night. Nothing more.

"-this woman..."

What has become of him? No longer the same man who first dedicated himself to this grand mission for Penacony. Hell to making discoveries on the Oak family, this dream had become one undeniably attractive so long as Shadow remained inside it.

Just who is he?

Who is Kakavasha?

Aventurine's thoughts struggle to move on from the name Shadow whispered so sweetly, reminding him of the taste lingering against his tongue. He'd lift a hand to his lips in response, gently brushing his swollen lips against the pad of each finger as if to relive the experience. Their tongues intertwined in a heated dance for dominance, a battle she succumbed to almost immediately.

How cute.

Each figure breathes unsteadily, exchanging oxygen like a lifeline.

“You’re my favorite gamble,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “And for once, I’m not afraid to lose.”

Shadow smiled, a small, hesitant curve of her lips that melted his heart. Her eye's noted each detail of his face, from the pink hue in his cheeks down to the hair stuck fast against his skin. He was handsome, a fact everybody knew. This position reminded her once again.

“Good,” she murmurs. “Because I’m not letting you run again.”

He chuckled, the sound soft and full of relief. “Deal.”

"Tomorrow then..? It's quite unpleasant standing in soaked clothes..." The woman's voice is timid, endearing, and genuine. Hesitant to end their moment,

Aventurine would pick up on this subtle detail.

"Haha, of course. Who would I be to pass up such a pretty lady's desire?"

I'm feeling fantastic, I'm fucking fantastic I wanna get drunk and watch American classics Drink champagne out of plastic Don't you want someone crazy like me, babe? (Crazy like me) I'm feeling amazing, I'm fucking amazing I'm high as a kite, I'm sat here picturing you naked You just have to take it (Take it) If you want someone crazy like me, babe

"…Kakavasha!"

A familiar voice would ensue, startling the young man. He'd whip his head around, feeling a warmth envelope his figure, a sudden impact forcing him to step back. His arms settling on the young woman's hips,

"…Shadow? Sweetheart, what in the world are you thinking? Standing out in the rain for so long? Here I thought you were smarter than that-"

"…You've grown predictable." Shadow would quip, pressing her body against his unapologetically. Refusing to make eye contact with the man, she'd nuzzle her nose in the crevice of his neck. A smile tugged at her lips.

"Oh, Have I now?" Aventurine questioned with a quirk in his expression, his tone filled with false security. Feeling cracks of vulnerability escape through tension. Struggling to maintain his composure,

This is so unlike him.

And I'm thinking of you Well, I might be higher than God

So unlike Aventurine.

"...I knew the moment we said goodbye, you'd return. You... Kakavasha... you're that kind of person."

"...I'm not him, Shadow-" Aventurine retorts, his grip firm, squeezing her in an attempt to get his message through to her. The hitch in his breath told,  

"Then why respond to that name?! If you are somebody else... why?" Shadow croaks in the warmth of his neck, her body quivering helplessly. Unable to contain her frustration,

"Shadow...-" Aventurine attempts to reinforce his argument, only for the young lady to lift her head and pull him to eye level with her. Staring at him with a fire he hadn't experienced in a long time,

"No. You talk far too much... your showing up was all the confirmation I needed. Kiss me, Kakavasha."

And he would comply.

Fin.

[sundaysconsort]

Entry : " Eyes don't lie "

Pairing : Aventurine | Oc! Shadow (@aventurineswife) ( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ )

Information : Aventurine's refusal to allow Shadow any control over her own wallet is apparent. Seeking out a specific brand of glove for a dear friend, Aventurine offers to be her guide. Unbeknownst to her, it would become somewhat of a date for the pair.

Tags : Mutual Pinning, Slow Burn, Angst If You Squint, Fluff, Romance, Intimacy, Emotional Healing, Domestic, Intimacy, Mutual Vulnerability, Internal Conflict, Hurt/Comfort

Word count: 4.4k

A/N: I worked on this longer than expected, and am still not quite satisfied with the result. However, I wish to shed some light and express my gratitude towards you. Despite the chaos, I hope you enjoy.

Whether you choose to window-shop, or waltz towards an article of clothing that tickles your fancy, you're a subject left in the hands of the general public. Your eyes drift for a second too long towards their product; and you'll have somebody invite you in, warm smiles used to hold rapport.

"Jewelry, wristwatches, handbags, and haute couture… You can find the most high-end and opulent merchandise in Penacony here!" You'll face salesmen and their attempts to manipulate you, coarse you into purchasing something you know you don't need; far out of your budget. Populated streets make it a competition between rivaling stores to pick up more possible customers, "▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇!" "▇▇▇▇▇▇▇!"

The best you can do is drown it out, or choose against this and ultimately lose yourself in the industry's tactics to lure you in. Ever heard the phrase "More fish in the sea"? Well, this is not a phrase used for romance alone, oh no. You're undoubtedly the fish within these bustling streets, as each store extends their reach to hook you in.

Some, however, know how to play around their theatrics' like an expert.

"Penacony appears never to dwindle, that is for certain." Voice written in velvet, a young woman combs a hand through her hair with an exasperated sigh. Brunette strands side-swept temporarily, only to begin falling back in place. Reluctantly tearing her eyes away from a window with the glamorous assortment of garments, she is met with a familiar face.

“Neither does your beauty, dear friend~”

Eyes don't lie Eyes don't lie Say you're mine Eyes don't lie

"...Aventurine?" Her ocean eyes would narrow, soaking in his appearance. Lips parting to speak once more, "-I thought you mentioned some form of important business left you with little free time? Have I remembered incorrectly?"

Aventurine, a member of the Interastral Peace Corporation; IPC for short. His title holds weight like no other, especially after the events he played a hand in towards the present of Penacony. A member of the Ten Stonehearts. A handsome face renowned for his luck, willing to bet everything on a mere chip.

"Ah yes, I did say something along those lines." He'd hum in agreement, eyes reading hers before pulling himself back up to his usual stature, no longer level with the lady. "-So, Shadow. What brings a woman such as yourself to these streets? Has the express chosen a new destination? Found trouble within this dreamscape once again?"

"Pssh. Nothing of that sort," Shadow would roll her eyes, playfully swatting the air as if to reprimand him. His eyes focus solely on her, taking note of the wallet grasped in her hand. Pressing it inside a purse she'd thrown over her shoulder casually. "We came at someone's request-"

"-Shadow!!" A chipper voice would suddenly shout, drawing the attention of both Aventurine and Shadow. Coming into view would be a pair of women, one with a bright expression and pink hair, while the other wore a color palette resembling the rising sun. Expression is only described as exhaustion, tension written in the way she is dragged along by their friend. An arm outstretched, stumbling over her own feet which drag on the ground. "-Aventurine? Are you both..?"

The energetic lady would let go of her companion's hand and lift the same limb dramatically to her brow as if scouting the couple closely. Unsure whether she has interrupted something or not.

"My oh my, is the entire crew here? Long time no see, Friends!" Aventurine would speak, his gaze deciphering what may be the reason for their return to Penacony. "-Stella, you've certainly seen better days... I take it March convinced you to tag along?"

Strelitzia, a fellow member of the Astral Express crew. Little was known of her or her species, besides her vague similarities to the Halovians. A pair of small, fascinating wings would twitch on top of her head, lifting her gaze towards Aventurine, only for him to receive an intense stare. One filled with emotion, far too much depth to decipher in a single glance. Her eyes resemble his own in color, falling narrow, void of any sort of light despite their surroundings.

"-Stella found interest in a conversation you had over text with the Trailblazer." A voice chimed in, his head turning towards Shadow who stood tall by his side. He'd notice her eyes stuck on the lady they were casting the spotlight on. "Which led to our return. There was mention of..?-"

"...' Night Diamond'" Stella whispers, crossing her arms in discomfort. Her wings are unable to remain still, fluttering up and down impatiently, casting a shadow on her face with each subtle movement. "...Gloves."

Aventurine's lips would tug into a smug smile, pulling out his phone to scroll through his messages. Finding the exact text Strelitzia would've been interested in, "This?" The man hands the phone to Strelitzia. Her hands cautiously took the mobile device from his grasp, unfamiliar with such a luxurious casing. Looking towards Shadow who wore a warm expression, encouraging her to speak further with Aventurine.

'Take, for another example, these "Night Diamond" series gloves, the last masterpiece by the deceased design master Van Jagh. They're handcrafted and limited to ninety pairs galaxy-wide, perfect for parties and special occasions.'

"...Yeah." Strelitzia would hand the phone back towards Aventurine, pointing towards the exact message in reference. Reeling back as their hands brush against each other. Keeping to herself once again, responding to him with small glances rather than making use of her voice.

Shadow feels a free arm snake around her waist out of the blue, pulling her close to Aventurine's side, leaving little proximity between the two. Wishing to include her, and gain somebody else's insight, the gambler began turning his phone towards her, allowing a clear view of the texts. Gaining the attention of both March and Strelitzia with his hands-on approach with Shadow, keeping their lips shut.

…Until March noticed him lean his head against Shadow, their blonde and brunette hair tangled together.

"-Are you two a thing?" March would blurt, shocked by her revelation. Tilting her head in curiosity, she'd murmur for Strelitzia to hear. "...Did you know of this and not tell me?"

Strelitzia shakes her head with a pair of furrowed brows, confused by such an accusation. Unable to speak, she'd felt March take hold of her hand once more, grinning widely. "Well, I think these two need time on their own. We'll find those gloves on our own, kay? Catch you both later!"

Unable to argue, Strelitzia's wings would lay flat on her head like a saddened puppy. Turning to watch Aventurine and Shadow as she reluctantly retreats with March, disappointed their interaction with Shadow ended so abruptly.

"Well, anyway..." A sultry voice cuts through the silence between him and Shadow, Aventurine's arm loosening around the woman's waist as some passersby look at their public display of affection. "...where were we? aah, right." He'd confirm something within himself, admiring the casual appearance Shadow wore during her time out.

Can't lie to you, baby Wanna feel your body close You say that you hate me But tell me shit nobody knows

"Do we genuinely look like that in their eyes?" Shadow spoke out loud, left in shock at the idea of her friend implying such an idea. Shifting outside of Aventurine's hold, and stepping back for room to breathe.

Truthfully, Shadow knew she had been pinning for Aventurine long before March brought up such an accusation. Choosing to ignore it due to their past circumstance... but such proximity made it hard to avoid. Thoughts drifting to the idea of his feelings.

What could she possibly make of his poker face? The emotions he shields from the naked eye?

Led on for years, creating a distance, only to be in his embrace once again.

She felt her heartache, the longer her heart wished to peruse him through reconciliation.

"How about this, mh? Allow me to be your companion tonight—won't you, Shadow? I know all the best locations. Anything you seek, ask, and you shall receive~" Not minding March's behavior, he decides to lean into it. Moving on from the subject immediately, brushing over Shadow's question, leaving room for her to dwell on whether it was intentional or not.

He remains open-ended. A man left up to interpretation.

"You and I both know I can't afford any store you suggest-" Shadow clicks her tongue, arms crossed disapprovingly, finding his proposition blastomas. Hearing Aventurine release a hearty laugh.

"Ah ah ah, humor me, won't you? Plus, as I said, Tab's on me-"

"-You never said that"

Shadow's gaze would narrow, reading into his every breath. Softening as his eyes met hers, losing what little resolve she had inside. She'd turn her head aside, neither accepting him outright nor rejecting the proposal.

"Now I have," Aventurine smiles, one fueled by his irresistible charm—but she knew better. That smile never reached his eyes.

He'd lift her head with a single finger beneath her chin, guiding her to look at him once again without a motion of his own, giving her that freedom to refuse or turn. "Tab's on me, I insist." Her walls crumble.

"Right, right. Lead the way, Handsome."

"Handsome?"

He’d let out a weary exhale, not realizing it was held for an extended period, attempting to brush this interaction off.

A single word from her.

Tension unearthed from his heart, struggling to accept such praise from somebody genuine. Lips thinning, he'd force an uncomfortable smile. Coward, he thought.

"C'mon, the sooner we find those gloves the better. For Stella's sake."

Right, for their friend's sake.

He was foolish to believe this could be a moment in time—shared for just the two of them. Lowering his hand in defeat, he'd be caught off guard when Shadow takes the lead by capturing his hand before it falls, turning to walk forward with him in her wake. Fingers intertwining.

The sound of music, idle chatter, and cheers cease to exist. His heart beat uncontrollably with each step.

“…”

Aventurine’s smile fell, far too exhausted to continue once she'd turned away from him, preoccupied with her thoughts.

Pathetic.

His expression morphed solemn, holding himself together barely. Thankfully she was unaware of his turmoil, or, refused to acknowledge it. He felt utterly pathetic, his tongue tied—Left to admire her from behind, out of sight. Just how it should’ve always been.

How could he possibly deserve her? How could he protect her in this chaotic realm? Perhaps, in another life...

Shadow's hand tightens, lending him a warm squeeze in silence. His hands trembling the entire walk, clutching onto her in their brief time alone. Appreciating her willingness to play as his anchor.

They've been here before.

Yeah, you're beautiful, don't have to try Darlin', you look divine

"You'd look beautiful in this, though, ...beautiful may be an understatement." Aventurine unhooked a revealing dress from its rack, whistling and holding it in front of him. Envisioning Shadow fits snuggly in it's fabric. "-Shadow?"

"We're here for Stella." Shadow reminds Aventurine adamantly, the warm lighting of the store complimenting her body deliciously. She couldn't help but fidget, shifting weight from one leg to the other anxiously, aware of how Aventurine seemed to devour her in a single glance.

"Come now, you couldn't possibly be this against treating yourself."

"I'm not-" Shadow attempts to argue, listening to Aventurine as he raises a brow at her futile retorts. Making it clear who's in control of their predicament,

"Well, then try this on for me." His expression was written smugly, already aware of who would come out the victor. "-Shouldn't be an issue if you aren't against a little treat for the both of us?"

"What? That's not what I said-" Shadow grows frustrated, a dust of pink adorning her cheeks as her inevitable defeat approaches. Wishing to clean that smirk off the blond's face.

"Please?" Aventurine silences her, kneeling in front of her, holding the dress in his hands neatly. Lifting it towards her as a servant would for their queen, "Wouldn't you be so generous as to allow me first class witness of your absolute divinity." He winks.

"...Kakavasha! People are watching-!" Shadow's thoughts race, feeling the eyes of those around them bore into their figures. His theatrics garnered unwanted attention. Growing embarrassed, she lost her composure, voice escaping her; referring him to be somebody he was no longer before she could restrain herself.

"Let them." He shrugged nonchalantly, anticipating her response to his request. The eye's not once wavering, not once straying from his desire.

If his old identity escaping her lips bothered him, he didn't show any sign of it.

"You're insufferable," Shadow murmured, accepting her defeat as she took the dress from his hands. Holding it against her chest, the satin seamlessly drapes over her arm. Its material is cool to the touch.

"I know." Aventurine smiles, taking her criticism without complaint. Leading her to feel regret, she readied herself to apologize, only to leave it alone at the sight of him. He seemed content.

And so, she made her way to the changing room. Felt his eyes trained on her the entire way.

Eyes don't lie Eyes don't lie Say you're mine Eyes don't lie

Shadow slides the curtain in a swift motion, exposing herself and the changing room's interior, the sound of a whistle immediately meeting her ears.

"Well, If it isn't the most attractive woman in the entirety of Penacony," he'd wear a shit-eating grin. Approaching her with his usual strut, his hands slipped into her own, "I'd bet my last chip on that, sweet beacon of light." The man whispers against her ear, guiding her towards the closest mirror.

Shadow couldn't help but clench the fabric of her dress, eyes averted in an attempt to glimpse at the man behind her. Felt a hand trail from her hip, up her torso, and towards her cheek; careful to avoid anywhere she might be uncomfortable with him grazing. Guiding her to face the mirror,

"I'd argue you're the most attractive, not I." Shadow smiled tenderly, too busy looking at his reflection to admire her dress. Losing herself in his presence.

"Haha, say that once you quit ogling over me and focus those pretty eyes on yourself." He'd nudge her to look towards the mirror, nodding his head with that same confident grin. "-stunning."

His voice held a tinge of warmth, his breath brushing against the shell of her ear. Causing the woman to blush faintly, listening to his every word, not noticing the smile of her own until he playfully reached to squish her cheeks.

"Aventurine."

"Yes?"

Then followed silence, her eyes admiring the view of them in the mirror. He looked... happy. Whether it was an illusion or not, she wished to stay here permanently.

Aventurine's expression is confident, while hers is relaxed. One hand of his is enough to cup beneath her chin, pressing her cheeks together between her finger and thumb. Leaving her with a kissy face; her brows furrowed. This seems to further entertain him.

Aventurine's free hand caressed her hip, exposed by the dress's open window teasing beneath the material, skin hidden from sight. The dress itself is quite snug, complimenting the young woman's figure. A simple appeal, raven colors with a few feather-like designs on the very bottom of the mermaid flounced dress.

"What are we?"

Shadow's voice escaped her, sounding significantly more vulnerable than she anticipated.

You tell me your secrets You keep your life between your lips You know you're my weakness Tell stories with your fingertips

"What are we not?" He chuckled dismissively, unbefitting of his true character.

Aventurine wouldn't lend her a direct answer, again. What did she expect? She could sense his hesitant nature, always playing so cautious with her... her heart ached in uncertainty.

"Give me an answer, Aventurine." Her eyes narrow, refusing to play along with this game of his any further. She needs an answer. Enough hints, enough of whatever role they play in this game.

"I'm uncertain," His words came without deceit, his hands making their way to both settle on her hips, a cheek pressed against the top of her head. Hiding his expression. "I... need time to understand what the answer you deserve is."

"Aventurine, I don't want the answer you believe I want. I need your honesty-"

"-I don't know, Shadow. I don't understand what we are; I don't know." His grip tightens, almost enough to bruise. She wasn't phased, growing further concerned.

Shadow hesitates to push him any further, choosing to combat her inner turmoil in silence. She knew Aventurine better than anyone, or she believed she did, and trusted his word. Lifting an arm, Aventurine felt her fingers scratch at his scalp, soothing his weary soul.

"I don't know." He'd murmur again, feeling his composure slip away.

"Shh... It's okay." Shadow whispers, warm and comforting. "We'll be okay."

She'd recognize her own saddened smile in the mirror, observing Aventurine's stillness in quiet acceptance. Satisfied that he hasn't pulled away from her touch. Fingers tangled in his luxurious hair.

Aventurine wouldn't speak, his hands loosening to caress her skin tenderly, grounding himself. His every intention is to remind her that she's more the a shadow. She's a beacon of light in his life.

No matter how stunning she may be, in her eyes, nothing is equal to his natural appeal. Admiring him so long as he allows. The scent of his cologne rubbed off on her, her eyes shut, and the world around them drowned out.

Yeah, you're beautiful, don't have to try Darlin', you look divine

"Are you sure? This is far too expensive," Shadow said, uncertain, her brows furrowed. Staring at the dress slung over an arm, "there's no guarantee I'll wear it often..."

"Trust me, this hardly leaves a scratch on my account. Allow me to treat you tonight." Aventurine laughs, leaving Shadow no room to argue further; his hand encasing hers while they walk. "Plus, it was basically made for you, wouldn't you agree?"

They've been seeking the "Night Diamond" series gloves for longer than expected, her mind undergoing suspicion. Shadow felt as though Aventurine had been playing dumb throughout their time together. Refusing to call him out, she found herself enjoying his attempts to lengthen their time together.

Aventurine takes notice of Shadow's eyes as searches relentlessly, lingering on a dress similar to the one already draped over her arm, however, it matches his signature aesthetic rather than her own... quick to avert her gaze.

"Aren't those the gloves?" Shadow lifts their hands to point towards the lone gloves behind glass, left safely in their showcase.

"Good eye, as expected of my most trusted partner." Aventurine never missed the opportunity to praise her over the most simple of feats. Smiling warmly, one significantly more genuine than his play on confidence earlier. Whether he was aware or not, she was left unaware.

Aventurine hesitantly lets go of Shadow's hand, "Stay here, I'll handle this. If you spot anything else during my absence, well... I wouldn't mind adding it to my card" He'd wink, making his way towards an employee, leaving Shadow behind momentarily.

She'd smile fondly, watching how he conversed with the employee. His charming grin was infectious, watching his gaze before she'd avert her gaze and act nonchalant.

Just as requested, she allows him to take over. Making her way towards a golden hairpiece, from it hung an untied, yellow ribbon. Reminding her of Stella, she'd feel the material slip between her fingers,

"You want this as well?" Aventurine's voice suddenly met her in a hot whisper, breath trickling down from her ear; causing her hair to rise on the back of her neck. "I never saw you as the type to wear such a bright color, y'know, given you claim to be a shadow and all." He'd tease, feeling her press a hand clasp against his mouth and ultimately silence him; a single brow raised in question while she felt his grin against her palm.

The man's eyes glint with intent, left unnoticed by Shadow.

"It's for Stella," She'd respond, looking towards him. "-if you insist on buying me the dress, and her gloves, I... would like to buy something for her myself." Shadow's gaze soon returned to the ribbon, her eyes refused to escape the hair accessory afterward, that was until she'd recoil, pulling her hand away from his face at the feeling of his tongue against her palm.

"I- I don't even know what to say to you." She'd stare at him dumbfoundedly, her nose scrunched in disgust while rubbing the saliva from her palm to the unfortunate fabric of her clothes.

He'd merely shrug with a proud smirk, eyes sharing an unrelenting glimmer; he'd spare her momentarily. He found a moment of pleasure in her disgust, wishing to rile her up further.

"You're so....-weird," Shadow stated quietly, arms crossed, she gripped the accessory between her fingers, listening to the beat of her heart in both ears. "Let's... pay for this all and meet with the others. I wish not to leave Stella waiting longer than necessary."

Aventurine's eyes glimmered like never before, whether it was the lighting in the store or the joy of the moment. She... couldn't erase the image of his gaze from her mind. Taking a peek at him, she notices it gone once more, frowning quietly. Their dynamic is still painted blue.

Eyes don't lie Eyes don't lie Say you're mine Eyes don't lie

"Aventurine! Shadow!" A loud voice breaks through the crowd's endless chatter outside the store, "Over here!!"

Many turn their heads, looking towards the young lady who laughed awkwardly and scratched the back of her head. Embarrassed at the unintentional attention she attracted. As Aventurine and Shadow reunite with March, they look around… noticing something strange.

"Where is Stella?" Shadow is the first to ask, concerned about her whereabouts.

"Don't tell me," He paused, "-you lost poor Stella in the crowd? Poor girl…" Aventurine lifts a hand to his cheek, heightening his theatrics. Receiving a pout in return by March, and a playful glare from Shadow.

"What?! Of course not!" March defends herself, "She saw Mr. Yang and ran off without a word, she doesn't usually handle these crowds well… but something tells me-"

"Sunday came with him?" Shadow adds, a knowing expression visible on her face.

"Bingo! Or… that's my guess at least. Ehe…" March giggles once again, not minding Strelitzia's sudden urgency to flee. Perhaps Strelitzia merely took up the opportunity to escape March's excitement while she had the chance. Shadow knew better.

"To think he'd show face in his unfinished symphony…" Aventurine hums to himself, wearing his signature grin. "Perhaps this is where we part ways, mh? Shadow?"

Would her answer matter? If she asked for him to stay, would he?

"Yeah." She'd take a deep breath, remaining composed. "We've got all we came for if not more…" Shadow thinks, "-I feel I haven't thanked you enough for this."

She'd lift the bag of luxury merchandise, peeking inside the bag that felt expensive on its own. She barely could afford that hairpiece for Stella, but, managed nonetheless. Would she regret it? Of course not.

I swear friends don't get this close Pull you in exchanging souls Trace my skin, losing control

"Pssh." Aventurine waved a hand, watching how March pivots on her foot, in search of any sign of their companions. Taking this as an opening, he'd step closer towards Shadow, "I have an idea as to how you could… repay me; if you're interested that is."

Shadow raised a brow, suspicious of his intentions that are left unclear. In response, Aventurine lightly tapped his cheek with his index and middle finger, face turned at an angle that still allowed his eyes to bore into her own. Expecting something, he'd allow Shadow to interpret this however she wishes.

"What?" Shadow inquired, her heart twinged between his clever fingertips. Left unsure whether she had missed any subtle cue on what he may desire.

After what felt like an eternity, Aventurine's laugh meets her unresponsive behavior, truly shaken by the idea of his implication.

"Well, you better catch up with March before she gets lost as well." Aventurine felt hesitant to leave, however, knew it was best for the both of them they separated once again. HIs chuckle unsettling, for her; knowing that it's full of falsehood.

"Wait." Shadow spoke up, refusing to accept his attempt to leave. No, it was far too soon.

"Miss me already?" Aventurine turned towards her, his breath escaping him as Shadow reached for his face suddenly. Hands clasping each cheek, she'd lean towards him, her body pressed against his chest. The bag of goods left at their feet.

"This is what you wanted isn't it..?" Shadow's voice lowers significantly, eyes peering into his with underlining resilience.

"Haha… not quite," Aventurine responds weakly, knowing full well it's close to what he previously bargained for.

"Then if I said I wanted this, would you reject my proposal?" Shadow asks, her breath leaving a warm tingle against his skin.

"…Shadow," Aventurine says, her eye's a window to the soul. He was afraid.

"Answer the question, for Aeon's sake." Shadow grew frustrated, Before the silence could break, he'd inch close towards her. Not minding the uninvited eyes, his arms wrap around her waist, lips crashing into her own with fervor. Desperate, both members take the waltz together after an entire day of tension.

"haha…" He'd pant, eyes half lidded; releasing Shadow reluctantly.

"Haha.. can't get enough of me can you?"

Shadow's hand grasped the window of his shirt, clutching it for support while leaning in for another. "You're more attractive with your lips sealed." In quiet acceptance, he'd lean into it once again, smiling tenderly. To hell with it all, if this is what she desires, who is he to neglect her further?

Eyes don't lie Eyes don't lie Say you're mine Eyes don't lie

Once this cycle meets an end, Shadow leans down to pick up her bag of contents. Meanwhile, Aventurine adjusts his clothes, smoothing them out as if nothing had happened. Taking care of each stay's hair, he'd treat her much the same.

"C'mon Doll, can't have you returning to your friends looking like this," Aventurine admits, admiring her tousled demeanor.

Shadow argues, "And who is responsible for my appearance?"

"You're more attractive with your lips sealed." Aventurine grins cheekily, pressing a finger against her lips momentarily.

Pulling away in due time, they'd bid their farewells.

Both she and he are left with more questions than answers, and neither would have it any other way. For once, content with a goodbye, knowing it won't be their last.

Eyes don't lie Eyes don't lie Say you're mine Eyes don't lie

Fin.